PREFACE

IN this edition the complete PoeticalWorks of Peacockhave been brought together for the first time . The

song sfl lyrics , and b allad s from the novels are nowprinted among the longer poems , the whole series beingarranged in chronologica l order on the authority of

the poet’s grand-daughter , Edith Nicolls . By the

g enerous courtesy of Messrs Macmillan Co Ltd .

I h ave be en permitted to reprint the various pieces

q uoted m her memoir (now arranged under their d ates )and all the other copyright poems first published mThe Works of Thomas Love Pe acock , includ ing his

Novels , Poems , Fug itive P ieces , Criticism , etc with

a Preface by the Right Honourab le Lord Houghton , a

B iographica l Notice by his grand d aughter , Ed ith Nicolls ,

and Portra it. Ed ited by Henry Cole , in three'

volume s . Richard B entley 6 Son , MDCCCLX X V .

The author’s footnotes are reta ined in full as beingeminently characteristic , if somewhat d iscursw e .

R . B. J .

THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK

WHILE Wordsworth w as preaching upon mora ls and

the art of poetry out of the mouths of Cumberlandpeasants , while Coleridge w a s perturbing philosophyby the exposition of German mysticism ,

while Shelleywa s ca lling on liberty in impassioned song , Thoma s

Love Pea cock, the laughing philosopher ,

’wa s con

tent to exercise his genius in the composition of

works which were intended primarily to give pleasure .His satire is a double- edged weapon tha t dea ls itsblows a like on enthusiasts and on conventionalism.

Instead of holding up idea ls , he runs down thea ctua l , and confines himself— for the most part—tothe humorous delineation of his contemporaries ,

Offering no contra st but one of classic or chiva lroussimplicity. He laughs at the theories of other people ,without expounding any for himself. His keenes tcontempt is reserved for afie ctation , however in

spired : his poetry is never didactic , seldom evenconta ining the picture of an idea l. Peacock doesnot dea l in maxims , fervid appea ls , or tenderretrospect.His early tra ining w a s peculiarly fitted for

the encouragement of literary ambitions . From the

ag e of sixteen ,apparently, he took his educa tion

into his own hands , and chose the British Museumfor his schoolma ster. There he read widely

,if d is

cursively, in Greek , Latin , French ,Ita lian , and

English ; supplementing such researches by an en

thus ia stic study of ancient sculpture , which must ha vedone much to deepen his sympa thy with the spirit andthe id ea ls of the clas sic ages . Having no immediatem sion to ea rn his own livelihood , he found the

viii THOM AS LOVE PEACOCK

means and the leisure to fa ll in love, to write verse sand publish them, and to spend long summer monthsin perpetual rambles in the open a ir. He wandereda lone over the mounta ins of Wa les, and traced thesources of the Thames in the stimula ting companyof Shelley. A casual acqua intance wrote of him a t

this time : He seems an idly-inclined man, indeedhe is professedly so in summer ; he owns that hecannot apply himself to study, and thinks it morebeneficia l to him as a human being entirely to devote himself to the beauties of the season while theylast ; he was only happy while out from morning tonightNevertheless , it is clear that Pea cock w as no dreamer.

His satiric powers never involved him in a quarrel ;a nd he wa s , in fa ct, a shrewd and practical man

, as

free from absurdities of hi s own as he was al ive tothose of others. In the management of a ffa irs heproved himself thoroughly efficient by his work at theIndia House, where , like the Mills , he held the important omoe of examiner . He w as in the service of theCompany for thirty-seven years and had no littleinfluence on its prosperity. H1s sa tires upon the

g ospel of steam and the commercial spirit of the a g e

d id not hinder him from proj ecting improvements inthe art of navigation and writing proudly of theiron chickens for which he was responsible. Of the

g enera l nature of his work, he wrote to Shelley :It is not in the common routine of office , but is an

employment of a very interesting and intellectu a lkind , connected with finance and legislation, in whichit is possible to be of grea t service not only to theCompany , but to the millions under their dominion .

The confession afiord s a striking contrast to his

rhymed estima te of official industry , whi ch , itself,inevitably reca lls the similar and similarly- inspiredra illery of Cha rles Lamb

THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK ix

From te n to e leve n, a te a b re akfa st for se venFrom e leve n to noon, to b e gin wa s too soon ;From twe lve to one , aske d ,

‘Wha t's to b e d one ?’

From one to two, found nothing to d oFrom two to three , b ega n to fore seeTha t from thre e to four , wou ld b e a damned bore .

Pea cock acted romantica lly on the one occasion inlife w i th which romance seems most properly connected —namely

,on his marriage . At the a g e of

twenty- six he had given his friend Hookham someaccou nt of a visit to Merionethshire the land of a ll

tha t is beautiful in na ture, and a ll tha t is lovely inwoman —during which he sa id farewell to one JaneGryfl

'

yd h, the most innoc ent , the most amiable , themost b ea uti ful girl in existence He d id not se e heragain for eight years , and apparentlymade no a ttemptto communi ca te with he r until his appointment at theIndia House ha d secured him the means to marry.

Then the memory of his love was sufficient. He lostno time in seeking he r out, but wrote at once .

It is more than eight yea rs since I had the happinessof se eing you . I can scarcely hope tha t you haverememb ered me a s I have remembered you , yet I feelconfident that the simplicity and ingenuousness of

your d isposition w ill prompt you to answer me withthe same candour with which I write to you . I longenterta ined the hopes of returning to Merionethshireu nd er better auspices than those under whi ch I leftit ; but fortune always disappointed me

, continua llyofiering me prospects which. receded a s I approachedthem. Recently she ha s made me amends for her

past unkindness, and ha s given me much presentgood ,

and much promise of progressive prosperity,which leaves me nothing to desire in worldly a d van

tage but to participa te it with you . The gre a te stblessing this world could bestow on me would be tomake

you my w ife. Consider if your own feelings wouldallow you to constitute my happiness . I desire only

THOMA 5 LOVE PEACOCK

to promote yours , and I desire only you ; for yourvalue is beyond fortune , of which I want no morethan I have. The same circumstances which havegiven me prosperity confine me to London , and to theduties of the depa rtment with which the Ea st IndiaCompany has entrusted me ; yet I can absent myselfonce in every year for a few days . If you sanctionmy wishes , with wha t delight should I employ them in

bringing you to my home ! I f this be but a ba selessdream ,

if I iam even no more in your estimation thanthe sands of the se a - shore— yet I am sure , a s I havea lready sa id , tha t you will answer me with the samecandour with which I have written . Wha tever maybe your sentiments ,

the feelings with which I nowwrite to you , and which more than eight years ofabsence and silence have neither obliterated nor

diminished , will convince you that I never can beotherwise than most sincerely and a ffectionately yourfriend Whether Miss Gryfiyd h w as more amused ortouched by the ingenuous directness of this rema rkable letter does not appea r , b ut she accepted theOfie r it conta ined , and became an excellent and

devoted wife . She developed , however, a delicacy ofconstitution

, at which the Welsh ma idens of he r

husband’s novels would have been profoundlya stonished .

Thomas Love Pea cock was born on October 1 8 ,

1 785. He w as an only child , and his father Samuel,of Peacock Pe llatt, St Paul’s Churchya rd , diedthree years a fter the boy ’

s birth . His ma terna lgrandfather , one Thomas Love , commanded H.M .S.

Prothe e in Lord Rod ney’s a ction of April 1 782 aga instthe French Admira l de Gra sse in the West Indies ; andhe was practica lly brought up by the old sa ilor untilhe w as sixteen years of a g e . Grandfather Love is

sa id to be the orig ina l of Capta in Haw lta u ght in

zlle lincourt. The child w as celebra ted for his long

THOMAS LOVE PEA COCK

and bea utiful fiaxen curls , which earned a kiss from

Quee n Cha rlotte.In a fter years he wrote with unusual insight of

the little schooling to which he wa s subjected by theindu lgent guardians of his youth

I d id not g o to an unive rsity or pub lic school. I was sixye a rs a t

a private school in ng lefie ld Gre en. I le ft it b e fore I wa s thirte e n.

The ma s te r was notmu chof a schola r ; b u t he ha d the art of inspiringhis pu pils w ith a love of lea rning , and he had exc e lle nt c lass ica l a ndFrench a ssistants. I passed many of my b e st ye a rs with my mothe r,taking more ple asure in re ad ing than in soc 1e ty. I was ea rly im

3 pre sse d with the word s of Ha rris : ‘To b e compe tent ly skille d in

ancient le arning is b y nomeans a work of such insupe rab le pa ins. Theve ry progress itse lf is attend e d w ith d e lig ht, and re semb le s a jou rneythrough some leasant country,

whe re , eve ry mile we a dvanc e , new

charms a rise . t is ce rta inly a s e a sy to b e a schola r as a g ame ste r ,

or many othe r chara cte rs e q ua lly il lib e ra l and low. The samea ication, the same q uantity of ha b it, will fit us for one a s com

p ete ly as for the othe r.

’

Thus encouraged , I took to rea d ing the

b est books , i llustrated by the b e st c ritics ; and amongst the latte r Ifess! e spe cia lly ind e b ted to Heyne and Hermann. Such wa s my

e neutron.

As alread y mentioned , Pea cock’

s schoolroom , fromhis sixteenth year , wa s the BritishMuseum , where LordHoughton has noted that instead of plodding throughthe limited routine of cla ssic writers under method ica linstruction, he was traversing the whole range ofancient literature with independent zea l , and rea lisingto himself the thoughts and images of tha t wonderfulphase of human existence in the old marbles everbeautiful and abundant relics of architecture broughttogether in ou r national Museum .

’ He never becamea schola r in the strictest sense of the term , but theunusua l familiarity with cla ssic thought and mannersso pleasantly a cquired ,

wa s destined to colour his mindand work throughout life .He began his career a s an author at the a g e of

nine te en b y the publication of a few poems , followedin 1806b y the rare volume entitled Pa lmyra and othe r

Poems , and in 1 8 10 by The Genius of The Thame s

xii THOMAS LOVE PEA COCK

projected three yea rs earlier. The first of the novelsHead long Ha ll

, appeared in 1 8 16.

Continuing to live in his grandfa ther’s house a 1

Chertsey , he became engaged to a beautiful younglady in the neighbourhood , but wa s separa ted frorr.he r by the underhand interference of a third personThough the happiness of his long marri ed life wa s

unbroken , he never apparently forgot his loss . Tht

poems , Newark A bb ey,Rememb er M e , and A l M ic

Primiero Amore were inspired by he r memory : she

wa s the origina l of Miss Touchango in CrotchetCastlehe a lways wore a locket with he r ha ir in it

’

, anc

d reamed of her for some weeks before his d ea th,more

than sixty years later .

As a young man , indeed , one imagines the handsome Peacock to have been somethi ng of a dreamerBeing appointed ,

no doubt through fami ly interestunder- secretary to a nava l commander, he compla in.that ‘writing poetry, or d oing anything e lse that i

rationa l, in this floating Infe rno, is a lmost next to a

mora l impossibility he gave up the post in less thara year ,

devoted himself to tracing the Thames fronits source and subsequently entered upon the prolonged tour over North Wa les destined to prove of $1much influence on his life and work. It was here , awe have seen tha t he me t and wooed the Caernarvonshire nymph who eventually became his wife ; henhe entered upon a close friendship with She lley, o

whom a lone among contemporary writers hi

apprecia tion glowed sincere and constant ; here hga ined tha t familiarity with the wild scenery amlegends of the country in which so many of his b eestories are la id .

The intima cy with Shelley, mainta ined till d eathhas been immorta lized in the character of Scythro;(se e Nightma re A b b ey,

where Coleridge appears a

Mr Flosky,

’

Lord Byron a s Mr Cypress ,’and Southe

'

THOMAS LOVE PEA COCK xiii

as‘Mr Sa ckbut and by various contributions to the

poe t’

s memoirs . The friends were neighb ours for a

time in Buckinghamshire, taking an a lmost equa lde light in long country rambles or in rowing and

sa iling on the Thames during which period our

au thor was gaining a certain reputa tion by thepubli ca tion of various novels and poems .

This somewha t desultory, though not unproductive ,existence was finally interrupted by an example ofwha t seems a lmost a freak in the history of Englishcommerce , which in its course has been of profoundinfluence on men of far grea ter genius than he. The

reasons ind ucing the Directors of East India Companyfrom time to time to enlist the services of litera rymen, and the effect of such appointments on theirfortunes , are not quite obvious to- d ay. But the fa cttha t Pea cock succeeded James Mill, was succeeded b yJohn Stu art Mill, and earned his living under thesame a uspices a s Cha rles Lamb , rema ins an incidentof note . Government officia ls of a la ter generation ,

certa inly, have turned their pens to uses sufficientlyunofi c ia l ; but no one office ha s nursed so manyau thors of genius as the old Company of plutocra ts ,

and it may be fea red tha t ou r modern craving forefficiency will soon banish the associa tion a ltogether.

Pea cock, however, wa s undoubtedly a competentand ind ustrious officia l. His appointment gave hima pe rma nent, congenia l, and sufiic iently remunera tivecareer . It evoked tha t unusua l combination ofpractica l sense and romantic ambition which cha racteris e d his essentially hea lthy nature , and litera llyprove d his establishment in life. As we have seen ,

he immediately summoned the fa ir Jane of Welshancestry to share his home , settled down to dome stichappiness in Stamford Street , Blackfriars ,

rose in theservice

,brought up a family, spoiled his grandchildren ,

and even ad opted a little girl for her remarka b le

xiv THOMAS LOVE PEA COCK

likeness to the daughter whose ea rly dea th transformed his wife to a

‘ complete inva lid .

’

During early married life, Pea cock continued his

literary w ork with little interruption , his mothera ccepting the responsibilities beyond the powersof a delica te wife ; but her dea th, in 1 8 3 3 , added

g reatly to his priva te a nxi eties and for thenext twenty yea rs he scarcely published anythingat a ll.

He continued, however, to earn distinction for hiso fficia l services , notably in suggestions for the improvement of steam naviga tion, by evidence be fore theSa lt Committee of 1 8 36, and through recommenda tionsto occupy the Euphrates against Russia in 1 8 3 8 .

He a lso won and mainta ined the friendship of LordBroughton , though never very fond of wha t is usua llyu nderstood by the word SocietyIn 1 852 he apparently rega ined leisure for writing,

and contributed a series of articles to Frazer ’s M agazine ,

of which only three are reprinted in the CollectedWorks Gryll Grang e , written and published in his

s eventy- sixth yea r, shows remarkable vita lity . Hehad lived to criticise the views , and laugh at thenonsense of three generations. Here he laughed a s

merrily at the third— that rising just now—as heha d done at the firstPea cock retired in 1 856on a comfortable pension of

over a thousand pounds , and settled down in the

c ountry,whe re he projected a Collection of M isce llanies

never issued . A letter to a friend on contemporarypolitical developments suggests a d ifli cu lty he felt at

this time in entering upon new work. If I haves a id lately nothing about the Tories , it a rises frommy considering them to be as completely extinct asthe mammoth. Their successors , the Conserva tives , as

they call themselves , appear to me like Falsta ff’s otter,neitherfishnor flesh one knows not where to have

THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK xv

them. I could not, in a dialogu e, put into the mouthof one of them the a ffirma tion of any principle whichI should expect him to adhere to for five minutesHe lingered on for another ten years , spending hisdays for the most part a lone in his library or his

garden,though he loved children , and , to the last

,

delighted in the celebration of village customs . A

fire which broke out in the roof of his bedroom wa s ,

appa rently, the direct cause of his last illness . It

threa tened his beloved books , and , with startlingenergy , he repelled the invita tion to sa fety of

,a

kindly neighbour : ‘By the immortal god s , I willnot move A few weeks la ter he died , in his eightyflrst yea r, on the 2 3 rd January 1 866, and wa s buriedin wha t wa s then the New Cemetery, at Shepperton.

Peacock’s grand-daughter, Edith Nicolls, who contributed the Biographical Notice to his Works , hasle ft a vivid description of his personal appearance

The pretty fa ir-ha ire d boy d eve lope d into a fine ta ll, hand some

man, w ith a profusion of b rig ht b rown ha ir, eye s offine d a rk b lue ,massive b row , and regu la r fe atures , a Roman nose , a handsomemouth, which, when he la ughed , as I we ll rememb e r, turne d up a t

the corne rs , and a complexion fa ir as a girl’s ; his ha ir was pecu liarin its wild luxuriant growth. it se emed to g row a ll from the top of thehe ad , had no parting, b ut hung about in thick locks , with a richwavea ll through it, and as an old man. it turne d to that b e a u tifu l b ri hts ilve r-white , whichone so se ld om see s ; at his d e ath, in his e ighty rs t

ye ar, itwa s a s profuse in q uantity a s when he was a young man.

She a lso tells us tha t, though averse to soc iety, he

was a lways a welcome guest from his genia l appre c ia

tion of wit in others , and his own powers of amusingna rra tive. But, particularly as a g e grew upon him ,

‘his detes tation of anything d isagreeable made him

simply avoid wha tever fretted him, laughing off all

sorts of ordinary calls upon his leisure time . Hislove of ease and kindness of heart made it impossibletha t he could be actively unkind to anyone, buthe would not b e worried , and just got away from

6

xvi THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK

anything tha t annoyed him A s Lord Hou ghtonexpresses it :

If his strong proc livity towa rd s the'fe e ling s and taste s of an

antiq ue world 1a spire d him w ith some re a l se ntime nt and muchhumorous afle cta tion of ha tred

o

of the vaunte d prog ress and a ctua ladvantag es of the ag e in whichhis lotwas c ast, the continua l re cu rrenceof his mmd to the s 1mple r and more gra ceful aspe cts of humanity mayha ve serve d to prote c this e ssentia lly critica l na ture from any satum ineor se ve re expre ss ion, and enab le d him to mix w ith our s e lf-sa tisfiedand ma lcontent soc ie t in the spirit of an e ld e r time . b e fore a ll theshe rry was d ry and a l the a le b 1tter, and when men of thought we renot ashamed ofb e ing me rry.

Peacock, in fact, was wise enough to laugh at whathe could not approve ; and , though somewhat solitaryand self- su ffic ient, was alwavs ready .to be a booncomrade and loya l friend . The man wa s eminentlyconsistent with his best work.

L ike so many novelists , who apparently pra ctisethe art of poetry as a recrea tion or as an exercise incomposition , Peacock is far more conventional in his

verse than his prose. Anyone familiar with his

d elightful novels will admit that he there crea ted a

manner of his own (which had its influence on the

ea rly work of his son- in- law , Mr George Mered ith),and proved himself expert in the la test phaseof thought and knowledge. He certa inly regardedthe enthusia sts of the a g e as fana tical but his sa tireneither conceals an intimate and intelligent acqua intance. with their tenets , nor precludes him from admiration and friendship for the individuals so inspired . We

have further abundant evidence ofhis keen and understanding sympa thy with progress ih practical a d a irs .

But in poetry, his criticism betrays an almostspiteful antipathy to the best work of his generation

(a lways excepting Shelley) ; while his own work ismostly confined to a cultured and monotonousexpression of tha t classic imita tion and conven

tiona l sentiment characterising the de lla cruscar

THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK xvii

dea d level from which Wordsworth and his friends ,despite their aflec tations of superiority, were ultima te ly destined to rouse and elevate public taste.In 1 820 he contributed an ingenious and e loquent

article to Ollier’

s M isce llany entitled the Four Ag es ofPoetry. in which he culmina tes a brief history of theart b y a few caustic paragraphs on his contemporaries ,

pla inly ind icating his contempt for the degenerate fryof modern rhymesters and their Olympic judges, themag azine critics He declares tha t

A poe t in our times is a semi-barba rian in a c ivilised community.

His id ea s, thoughts, fe e ling s , a ssocia tions , a re a ll with barb arou smanne rs, ob solete customs, and explod e d supe rstitions. The marchofhis inte llect is like that of the c ra b , backward . The b ri hte r thelig ht d ifl

’

use d a round him b the progre s s of re a son, the tb ic e r is theda rkness of antiq uate d b ar arism, in which he b u rie s himse lf l1kc a

mole to throw up the b arren hil locks of his Cimme rian la bours.The hig he stinspirations of poe try a re re solva b le into three ingre d ientsthe rant of unre ula te d pa ssion, the whining of exagge ra te d fe e lingand the cant of ctitious s entiment : and can the re fore se rve only to

ripen a splend id luna tic like A lexand e r, a pu ling d rivile r l ike We rte r,

or a morb id d reame r l ike Word sworth.

Peac ock , apparently , admired the ancients of each

g eneration ; but he considered tha t the general‘ac tivity of intellect ’ , inaugura ted by Hume and

Gib b on, Rousseau and Volta ire, created a necessityfor even poets to appea r to know something of whatthey professed to ta lk Of

’

, which wa s fatal to their a rt.

He ha s no mercy for

That egregious confra te rnity of Rhyme sters, known b y the name ofthe Lake School who ce rta inly d id re c ei ve a nd communica te to theworld some of the mo st extraord ina ry poe tica l impre s s ions tha t w e ree ver he ard of, and ripe ne d into mod e ls of pu b lic virtue , too sple nd id tone ed il lu stra tion. The wrote ve r ~es on a new p rinc iple , saw rocks

and rive rs in a ne w ig ht ; a nd , rema ining stud iously ignorant of

history, soc ie ty, and human nature , cu ltiva ted the phanta sy only a t

the expense of the memory and the re ason.

One would be a lmost tempted to suspect thecritic of envy or spleen ; but, while we are now ableto judge the Lake Poets by their ultima te a chi eve

xviii THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK

ments and influence ; their contemporaries mayperhaps be forgiven for dwelling rather upon thesomewhat irrita ting conceits and aflecta tions of themen themselves , their overwhelming confidence in

their message to humanity and in their power for itsdelivery. A mutua l-admira tion society , which the)assuredly formed , is always ludicrous to the observerand Peac ock

’

s witty paraphrase of their theorie sa lways , in fa ct, inferior to their practice—may b e

enjoyed without ma lice. He imagines them b land l)congra tula ting each other on the discovery of a nev

Evangel

Poe tic a l enius is the fine st of all thing s , and we fe e l tha t we havemore of it 1 an anyone eve r ha d . The way to b ring it to pe rfe ction i!to cu ltiva te poe tica l impre ssions exc lu sive ly. Poe tica l impress ionca n b e re ce ived only among natura l scene s—for a ll that is artificiais anti-poe tica l. Soc ie ty is a rtific ia l, the re fore we will live ou t o

soc ie ty. The mounta ins a re natu ra l , the re fore we w ill live in themounta ins. There we sha ll b e shining mod e ls of purity a nd Virtue

pass ing the whole d ay in the innoc enta nd amia b le oc cupa tion of goingup a nd d own hill , rec e iving poe tica l impre ssions , and communica tinlthem in immorta l ve rse to a dmiring gene rations.

He concludes tha t,‘while the historian and the

philosopher are advancing in, and a ccelera ting , the

progress of knowledge , the poet is wa llowing in the

rubbish of departed ignorance , and raking up the

a shes of dead savag es to find gewgaws and rattles foethe grown babies of the a g e

’

.

One wonders , a fter such a declaration , that Peacock himself had the temerity to publish verse . Heproved himself, indeed , insensible to the dawningidea ls of his d ay, and rema ined content with the

spurious classicism, a lready moribund , natura llyvoiced in cumbrous odes ,

rhymed couplets , and‘oh

'

ta les of the contest between natura l and supernatu ra'

love ’

. His earlier and longer poems— as Lore

Houghton Observes

Be long to a time when.

ve rse -writing wa s a gentl eman-l ike re

c rea tion as we ll a s a d 1v1ne afllatus , and when a critic no more

https://www.forgottenbooks.com/join

xx THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK

direc ted his more serious attempts in verse. Thoughstill impervious to current influences , he wrote froman obviously spontaneous and personal inspira tionwith origina l genius. Lyrica l excellence eludes d efini

tion ; but Peacock exhibited its essentia l qua lities bythe tuneful expression of single idea s or moods in

simple language. He sings of love or grief with deepand genuine feeling or na tural gaiety : he neverobscures or weakens his effect by involved metaphoror over- subtlety. The vigour, restra int, and directness of style perfects a form dictated by pure emotion.

His ba llads , whether satirical or merely narra tive, areentirely free from the spurious archa isms and conscioussimplicity of most modern examples. Their racyvigour betrays neither pose nor effort, but clearlyarises from natura l energy of thought and fluency.

The old ba llads were written in old English , as spokenby their authors }

.

and the best modern ba llads are

colloquial w ith the colloquialisms of their own ag e

not another’s . Peacock is obviously at home in tru ebardic poetry, and wields his power to varied ends ,never descending to burlesque in sa tire or to rhymed

prose in legend .

The lyrics and ba llads of Thomas . Love Peacockmust a lways save his memory from oblivion. Theyshould further tempt u s to search for the exce llen

cies that leaven his more ambitious, though inferior,poetica l work. He d id not belong to his own ag e . As

a poet, he was a revival of a non-

poetica l genera tionthe last, and not certainly the least, of an almostforgotten school whose bondage he escaped , ye twithout falling under the new influences , in his mostorigina l and independent work.

R. BRIMLEY JOHNSON.

We sre nna u , 1906.

CHRONOLOGICAL INDEX OFTHE POEMS

DAT !

I 79S180 : The Lord ’s Prayer, paraphrased1 803

‘Youth of the year 1 celestial spring 1 translated from the I talian of Guac ini

1804 The Monks of St Mark1 805 Stanzas1805 To Mrs De St Croix, on her Recovery1806Palmyra

The V isions of LoveMaria ’

8 Return to her native CottageFiolfar, King of NorwayHenri etteThe Old Man’

8 Compla intOn the Dea th of C. Pembroke , Esq .

The Ra inbowEllenFarewell to Ma tildaMiraAmarillis , from the Pastor FidoClonar and TlaminFold ath in the Cavern of MomaDre ams , from Petronius ArbiterPindar , on the Eclipse of the SunTo a Young Lady, NettingLevi MosesSlender’s Love-ElegyA FragmentBeneath the Cypress ShadeThe Vigils of Fancy

1808 Remember meRomance

xxii CONTENTS

PAGE

The Genius of the Thames , second edition. 67Stanza s ,

written at Se a 1 16Inscription for a Mounta in Dell 1 19Necessity 1 2 1

Youth and Ag e

Phaedra and NurseChoral Od e to LoveConnubia l EqualityAI Mio Primiero AmoreTransla tionLines to a favourite Laurel in the Garden at

Ank erwyke CottageSir Proteus , a satiri cal ba llad

FROM Head long Ha ll :

SongGleeLove and OpportunityTerzettoBa lladChorus

The Death of (Ed ipus—Speech of the Mes

senger to the Choru s ,in the Qz

‘

d ipus at

Colonu s of SophoclesPolyxena to Ulysses , from the Hecu ba of

EuripidesPrologue to Mr Tobin ’s comedy of The

Gu ard ians

Epilogue to The Guard ians

FRQM M e lincourt

Translation [Orphica , Hymn xi]The Tomb of LoveThe GhostsThe Flower of LoveBa llad Terzetto : The Lady, the Knight

and the Friar

CONTENTS xxiii

PAG8

FROM M e lintourt—continued

TerzettoThe Morning of LoveInvoca tionThe Sun-Dial

QuintettoThe Magic Bark

Sir Hornbook : A Grammatico-Allegoricalballad

Rhododaphne or, the Thessa lian Spe ll

FROM Nightmare Ab beyThe Grey Friar 267Song by Mr Cypress 268Seamen Three 269

The Round Table , or King Arthur’s Feast . 270

FROM M a id M arian

The BrambleMichael’s FrockThe Abbot’s NoseKingslea MereA Greenwood TreeMa tilda and the FriarThe Proud SherifieTo BattleThe Hermit’s Ce llBold Robin HoodRobin Hood and the two Grey FriarsThe Jolly RoverOver, OverThe Friar of Ru b yg illWhen the Wind BlowsFarewell to the Forest

PAPER MONEY LvarcsPan in TownThe Three Little Men

xxiv CONTENTS

PAPER MONEY LYRICS— continued

Fly- b y

-Night .

A Mood of my own MindLove and the FlimsiesThe Wise Men of GothamChorus of Bubble-buyersA Border BalladSt Peter of ScotlandLament of Scotch EconomistsCa ledonian War-WhoopChorus of Scotch EconomistsYe Kite-Flyers of ScotlandChorus of NorthumbriansMargery Daw

Margaret Love PeacockCatholic Emancipation

FROM The M i s/ortunes of Elphin“ D A .

The Circling of the Mead HornsThe Song of the Four WindsA Song of Gwy

'

thno Garanhir

Another Song of GwythnoThe Consolation of ElphinThe Mead Song of Talies inSong of the WindThe Indignation of Taliesin with

Bards of Mae lgon GwynethTa lies ’n and Me lang he lThe War-Song of Dinas VawrThe Brilliancies of WinterMerlin’s Apple-TreesThe Massacre of the BritonsThe Cauldron of Ce ridwen

Rich and Poor or, Saint and SinnerThe Fa te of a Broom (published in

Examiner)

FAG.

CONTENTS xxv

PAGE

From Crotchet Castle

Chorus by Mr TrilloWe ’ll Dine and DrinkBeyond the SeaThe Pool of the Diving FriarFlorence and BlanchflorThe Priest and the Mulberry TreeIn the Days of Old

Byp and NopThe Legend of Manor Ha llNewark Abbey , with a Reminiscence of 1807

Published in 1860Lines on the Death of Julia , Lord Broughton ’s eldest Daughter (MS.

A Whiteba it Dinner at Lovegrove’s , in

Greek and La tin verse (privatelyprinted)

Fish Feas tIn Remembrance of Forty- four Years ago

From Gryll Grang e

The Dea th of PhilemonThe Dappled Pa lfreyLove and Ag eA new Order of Chiva lryFrom Orlando InnamorataThe Spirit-RappersChorus of CloudsChorus As before the pike w111 fly ’

The Leg end of Sa int Laura

To Lord Broughton,in answer to Birthday

Greetings

UNCERTAIN DATES :Cast in the AirMidnight.

xxvi CONTENTS

UNCERTAIN Dam s—continuedTimeChora l Od eOh, Nose ofWax l trueSymbol of theMindA Good lye Ballade of Little JohnFarewell to Me irion

Oh, B last are They, and They A lone IOn Ca llers

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TRANSLATION FROM GUACINI

Grant u s , oh Thou Who cloth’

st the field lThis d ay our da ily bread

As we to others mercy yield ,On us Thy mercy shed .

Permit not in tempta tion’

s roadOur heedless steps to stray

Free u s from evil’s dire abode,And guide u s '

ou our way.

For ever above all to tow’

r,

For ever bright to shine,Thine is the kingdom , Thine the pow

’

r,

And endless glory Thine.

TRANSLATION

FROM THE ITALIAN O'

F GUACINI

O Primavera , gioventu d el anno etc.

YOUTH of the year 1 celestia l spring 1Aga in descend thy silent showers

New loves , new pleasures dost thou bring,And earth aga in looks g ay with flowers .

Dark winter’s chilling storms are flown,

All nature ha ils thy reign with gladness ,All nature smiles , save I alone

,

The victim of eternal sadness .

Thy rosy smiles , all- cheering spring,In va in to welcome I endeavour

They but the sad remembrance bringOf joys which I have lost for ever 1

Feb ruary 1 , 1803 .

THE MONKS OF ST MARK

THE MONKS OF ST MARK

[Written in 1 804]

’

TIS mi dnight the sky is wi th clouds overcastThe forest- trees bend in the loud-rushing blastThe rain strongly bea ts on these time-hallowed spiresThe lightning pours swiftly its blue-pointed firesTriumphant the tempest-fiend rides in the dark ,

And howls round the old abbey-wa lls of ST MARK l

thunder, whose roaring the trav’

ll‘

er appals ,as if with the ground it would level the wa lls

in vain pours the storm-king this horrible routThe uproar within drowns the uproar withoutFor the fra irs , with BACCHUS , not SATAN , to grapple,The re fe ct

’

ry have met in, instea d of the chapel.

Stea d of sing ing TE DEUMS, on ground-pressing knees ,They were piously bawling songs , catches , and gleesOr, all speakers , no hearers , unceasing, untir

’

d ,

Each stoutly held forth, by the spirit inspir’

d ,

Till the ABBOT, who only the flock could controul,Exclaim’

d AUGUSTINE l pr’ythee push round thebowl 1

The good brother obey’d but, oh direful mishapThrew its scalding contents in JERONIMO’S lap IAnd o

’

er his bare feet as the boiling tide stream ’

d,

Poor AUGUSTINE fretted , JERONIMO scre am’

d ,

While PEDRO protested , it vexed him infernally,To se e such good beverage taken externally I

The AEBOT, FRANCISCO , then feelingly sa idLet tha t poor wounded devil be carried to bed

4 THE MONKS OF ST MARK

And let AUGUSTINE , who, I boldly advance ,Is the whole and sole cause of this fa tal mischance ,I f e’er to forgiveness he dare to aspire ,Now bear to his cell the unfortunate fri ar.

’

He rose to obey , than a sna il rather quicker,But, finding his strength much d iminish’

d by liquor,

De clar’

d , wi th a hiccup,he scarcely could stand ,

And b e g g’

d Brother PEDRO to lend him a hand .

Brother PEDRO consented , but all was not right ,Till NICHOLAS ofier’d to carry a light.

By the hea d and the feet then their victim they held ,Who with pa in and with fear most tremendously ye ll

’

d

And wi th one little lamp tha t scarce shone through thegloom ,

In path curvilinear march’

d out of the room,

And , unheed ing the sound of the rain and the bla st,Through the long disma l corridor fearlessly pass

’

d .

From the right to the left, from the left to the ri ght,

Brother NICHOLAS reel’(1, inconsiderate Wight IFor not seeing the sta irs to the hall-floor tha t le d ,

Instead of his heels he soon stood on hi s headHe rolls to the bottom , the lamp-flame expires ,And darkness envelopes the wondering friars 1

He sq uall’

d , for the burning oil pou r’

d on his handB ewild e r

’

d d id PEDRO and AUGUSTINE standThen loud roar

’

d the thunder, and PEDRO , in dread ,A b and on

’

d hi s hold of JERONIMO’S head ,

And prone on the floor fell this son of the cowl ,And howl

’

d , deeply- smarting , a terrible howl 1

Poor AUGUSTINE’S bosom with terror was cold ,On finding his burthen thus Slide from his hold

THE MONKS OF ST MARK 5

Then , cautiously stealing, and groping around,He felt himself suddenly struck to the groundYells , groans , and strange noises , were heard in the dark ,

And , trembling and swea ting, he pray’

d to ST MARK 1

Meanwhile, the good ABBOT was boosing about

When, a little a larm’

d by the tumult without,Oc casion

’

d by poor Brother NICH’

LAS’

S fa llFrom the corridor- sta irs to the floor of the ha ll,Like a true jolly friend of good orderly laws ,He serpentin

’

d out to discover the cause.

B ew ild er’

d by liquour, by haste, and by fright ,He forgot that he stood in great need of a lightWhen , hiccuping, reeling, and curving along ,And humming a stave of a jolly Old song ,He re c e iv

’

d a rude shock from an object unseen,

For he came in full conta ct with Sa int AUGUSTINE

By JERONIMO’S carcass tri pp’

d up unawares ,He was instantly hu rl’d down the corrid or- sta irsBrother NICHOLAS there , from the floor cold and damp ,

Was rising w ith what yet remain’d of his lampAnd , the worthy superi or’s good supper to Spoil,Rega l’d his strange guest wi th a mouthful of oil

Thence sprung the dire tumult , which , rising so near ,

Had fill’d AUGUSTINE with confusion and fearBut the sons of ST MARK,

now appearing with tapers ,

At once put an end to his pray’

rs and his vapoursThey re e l’ d back to their bowls ,

laughed at care and foulwea ther,

And were Shortly all under the table together .

September, 1 804.

6TO MRS DE ST CROI X , ON HER RECOVERY

STANZAS

[Wri tten about 1 805]

WHEN hope her warm tints on the future sha ll cast,And memory illumine the days tha t are past,May their mystica l colours , by fancy combined ,Be as brig ht as thy thoughts , and as pure as thy mind.

May hope’

s fa iry ra d iance in Clouds never set,

Nor memory look dark with the mi sts of re gretFor thee may their visions unchangeable shine,And prove a more brilliant rea litv thine .

Many are the forms of fa te ,Much scarcely hoped in life betides ,

Much strongly promised b ame s h0pe,Much unexpected by the gods is given ,

Much strongly promised from ou r hOpe is rivenThrough paths Of fate tha t most impervious seem,

The darkest paths of life’s prospective way,

Propitious gods make pervious to the d ay.

Now , Should some god approa ch me , saying Cra to,When you are dead, you shall be born anew,

And be wha te’er you will, dog , Sheep , or goat ,01; man, or horse, for you must have two livesSo have the Fates decreed Choose which you willI Should at once give answer Make me anythingRa ther than man, the only animal

That good and ill betide a like unjustly

TO MRS DE ST CROIX

ON HER RECOVERY

[Written in 1805]

WHEN wintry storms , wi th envious pow’

r,

The g lorious orb of d ay o’

ercast

PALM YRA

When black and deep the snow- clouds low‘rAnd coldly blows th

’ ungenial blast

The feather’d race , no longer g ay,

Who joy’

d in summer’s glowing reign,Sit drooping on the leafless Spray,

And mourn the desolated pla in.

But when, at spring

’

s celestial ca ll,Subsides the elementa l strife,When dri fting snows no longer fall,And na ture kindles into life ,

Each li ttle tenant of the grove,Makes hill and dale with song resound ,

And pleasure , gratitude , and love ,From thousand echoes ring around .

And thus , when thou wast d oom’

d to pa in,On Sickness ’ cheerless couch reclin

’

d ,

Love, duty, friendship , sigh’

d in va in ,

And at thy transient loss repin’

d .

But grief and pain no more assa il,And all wi th smiles thy steps attend

With renovated bliss they ha ilTheir gu ide , their parent, and their friend.

PALMYRA 1

[Published in 1 806]

d raw n r ib » ndv‘rwv inrepBahMvr a xpévov aaxdpwv.

Pindar [Fragm. Incert. No.

As the mountain- torrent rages ,

Loud , impetuous , swi ft, and strong,

1 Pa lmyra is Situated under a barren ridge of hillsto the west , and Open on its other Sides to the desert.

8 PALM YRA

SO the rapid stream of agesRolls with ceaseless tide along.

Man’s little d ay what Clouds o’

ercast I

How soon his longest da te is past lAll- conq u

’

ring DEATH , in solemn state unfurl’d ,

Comes , like the burning desert-blast ,And sweeps him from the world .

It is about six days ’ journey from Aleppo, and as manyfrom Damascus , and about twenty lea gues west of theEuphrates ,

in the la titude of thirty- four degrees , ao

cording to Ptolemy. Some geographers have placedit in Syria , others in Phoenicia , and some in Arabia .

Wood , Ru ins of P a lmyra .

That Solomon built Tadmor in the wilderness , we aretold in the Old Testament and tha t this wa s the sameCity which the Greek s and Romans called afterwardsPalmyra , though the Syrians reta ined the first name ,we learn from Josephus — I b id .

We departed from Aleppo on Micha elmas d ay, 169 1and in six easy days ’ travel over a desert country , cameto Tadmor . Having passed by the ruins of a

handsome mosque , we had the prospect of such ma gnific ent ruins , that if it be lawful to frame a conjectureof the ori

ginal beauty of that place by what is still te

maining , question whether any city in the world couldhave Cha llenged precedence of this in its glory.

—Phi losophica l Transactions , Lowthrop

’

s A bri d gement, Vol. 111 .

On the fourteenth of March , 1 751 , we arrived at theend of the pla in , where the hills to ou r right and leftseemed to meet. We found between those hills a vale,through which an aqueduct , now ruined , formerly conveyed water to Pa lmyra . In this vale , in our Ti htand left, were several square towers of a considera le

he ight , which , upon a nearer approach , we found werethe sepulchr es of the ancient Pa lmyrenes. We hadscarcely passed these venerable monuments , whenthe hills Opening discovered to us , all at once , the

g reatest quantity of ru ins we ha d ever seen , all of white

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to PALM YRA

’Mid SYRIA’S barren world of sand,Where THEDMOR’

S marble wastes expand 1,Where DESOLATION , on the blasted pla in,Has fix

’

d his adamantine throne ,I mark , in Silence and alone,His melancholy reign.

These silent wrecks , more eloquent than spe ech,Full many a ta le of awful note impart

Truths more sublime than bard or sage can tea chThis pomp of ruin presses on the heart.Whence rose tha t d im, mysterious sound,

That b re ath’

d in hollow murmurs roundA s sweeps the galeA long the va le,

Where many a mou ld’ring tomb is spread ,

Aw e - struck , I hear ,In fancy’s e ar,

The voices of th’

illustrious deadAS slow they pass along, they seem to sighMan, and the works ofman, are only born to d ie

AS sc atter’

d round , a d reary space ,Ye spiri ts of the wise and just !

In reverential thought I traceThe mansions of your sacred dust ,

1 Or, at the purple dawn of d ay ,

Tadmor’s marble wastes survey .—Gra inger.

Of severa l ancient ways of writing this name , theOedmp of the Alexandrian Copy comes nearest tothe pronunciation of the present Arabs —Wood .

I have adopted this pronuncia tion a s a more poeticalone than Tedmor or Tadmor.

PALM YRA 1 1

Enthusiast FANCY , tob’d in light ,

Pours on the a ir her many Sparkling rays ,

Redeeming from OBLIVI ON’S deep’ning nightThe deeds of ancient d ays .

The mighty forms of chiefs of old ,

To V IRTUE dear, and PATRIOT TRUTH sublime ,In feeble Splendour I behold,

Discover’

d dimly through the mists of TIME ,

A s through the vapours of the mounta in- streamWith pale reflection glows the sun’s dec lining beam .

Still as twilight’s mantle hoarySprea ds progressive on the sky ,

Se e , in visionary glory,

Darkly-thron’

d , they sit on high .

But whose the forms , oh FAME , declare,Tha t crowd ma j estic on the a irBright Goddess 1 come , on rapid wings ,To tell the mi ghty deeds of kings .

Where art thou , FAMEEa ch honour’d name

From thy eternal roll unfoldAwake the lyre,In songs of fire ,

To chi efs renowned in days of old .

I ca ll in vain lThe welcome stra in

Of praise to them no more shall soundTheir actions brightMust sleep in night,

Till TIME shall cease his mystic round .

The da zzling glories of their d ayThe stream of years has swept awayTheir names that struck the foe with fear.

Shall ring no more on morta l e ar 1

12 PALM YRA

Yet faithful MEMORY’S raptu r’

d eyeCan still the gode form descry 1 ,Of him,

who , on EUPHRATES’

shore,From SAPOR’S brow his blood- sta in

’

d laurels tore ,And bade the ROMAN banner stream unfurl

’

d

When the stern GENIUS of the sta rtling wavesBeheld on PERSIA’S host of slavesTumultuous ruin hurl’d l

1 At the time when the East trembled at the nameof Sapor , he received a present not unworthy of thegreatest kings a long trai n of camels , laden wi th themost rare and valuable merchandises . The rich ofie r

ing w a s accompanied by an epistle , respectful , but notservile , from Od enathu s , one of the noblest and mostOpulent sena tors of Pa lmyra . Who is this Od enathu s(sa id the haughty victor, and he commanded tha t thepresents Should be cast into the Euphra tes) tha t hethus insolently presumes to write to his lord I f heenterta in a hope of mitigating his punishment , let himfa ll prostrate be fore the foot of our throne , with hi shands bound behind his ba ck . Should he hesita te,swift destruction Sha ll be poured on his head , on hiswhole race , and on his country The despera te extremity to which the Palmyrenian was now red uced,called into action a ll the la tent powers of his soul. Hemet Sapor ; but he met him in arms . Infu sin his

own spirit into a little army , collected from the agesof Syria , and the tents of the desert , he hovered roundthe Persian host , ha rassed their retrea t , carried off

part of the trea sure , and , what was dearer than anytreasure , severa l of the women of the Grea t King, whowas at last obliged to repass the Euphrates , with somemarks of haste and confusion. By this exploit, Odenathus la id the foundation of his future fame and fortunes . The ma j esty of Rome , Oppressed by a Persian,was protected by a Syrian or Arab of Palmyra .

Gibbon.

PALM YRA x3

Meek SCIENCE too, and TASTE refin’

d ,

The grave with dea thless flow ’

rs have d re ss’d ,

Of him whose virtue- kindling mind 1

Their ev’ry charm supremely b le ss’dWho trac ’d the ma zy warblings of the lyre

With a ll a critic’s art, and a ll a poet’s fire .

Where is the bard, in these d e g en’

rate days ,To whom the muse the blissful meed awards ,

Again the dithyrambic song to ra ise ,And strike the golden harp’s responsive ChordsBe his a lone the song to swell,The all- transcendant praise to tellOf yon immorta l form ,

Tha t bursting through the veil of years ,In changeless ma j esty appears ,

Bright as the sunbeams thro’ the sc att’ring stormWha t countless Charms around he r ri se 2

1 Longinus .

9 Au relian had no sooner secured the person and

provinc es of Tetri cu s , than he turned his arms aga instZe nobia , the celebrated quee n of Pa lmyra and the Ea st .Mod ern Europe has produced several illustrious womenwho have susta ined with glory the weight of empire ,nor is ou r own a g e destitute of such disting uishedcha ra cters . But Zenobia is perhaps the only fema lewhose superior genius broke through the servile indole nce imposed on her sex by the climate and manne rsof As ia . She cla imed he r descent from the Macedonianking s of Egypt, equalled in beauty he r ancestor Cleopa tra , and far surpassed that princess in chastity and

valour . Zenobia was esteemed the most lovely, as wellas the most heroic, of her sex. She was of a dark com

plexion (for in speaking of a lady these trifle s become

1mporta nt). Her’

teeth were of a pearly whiteness , and

he r la rge black eyes sparkled with uncommon fire ,

14 PALM YRA

What da zzling splendour sparkles in her eyes 1On her ra diant brow enshrin

’

d ,

MINERVA’S beauty blends with JUNO’S gra ceThe matchless virtues of her godlike mind

Are stamp’

d conspicuous on her angel- face.

Ha il, sacred Shade, to NATURE dear lThough sorrow clos

’

d thy bright career ,Though Clouds ob scur

’

d thy setting d ay,

Thy fame Shall never pass away 1Long Shall the mind’s unfading gazeRetra ce thy pow

’

r’

s meridian bla ze,When o

’

er ARABIAN desert , vast and wild,And EGYPT’S land (where REASON

’S wakeful eyeFirst on the birth of ART and SCIENCE smil ’d ,

And bade the Shades of mental darkness fly),And o

’

er ASSYRIA’S many-

perpled plains ,By Justice le d , thy conq u

’

ring a rmies pour’

d ,

tempered by the most attractive sweetness . He r voicew as strong and harmonious . He r manly understanding was strengthened and adorned by study. She wasnot ignorant of the La tin tongue , but possessed in equalperfection the Gree k, the Syriac , and the Eygptianlang uages . She ha d drawn up for her own u se an

epitome of Oriental history, and familiarly comparedthe beauties of Homer and Pla to, under the tuition ofthe sublime Longinus .

—Gibbon.

I f we ad d to thi s he r uncommon strength , and consider he r excessive military fatigues , for she used nocarriage , genera lly rode , and often marched on footthree or four miles wi th her army ; and if we at thesame time suppose her harang uing her soldiers , whi chshe used to do in a helmet , and often with her armsbare , it will ive u s an idea of tha t severe characterof lfmascu line canty, which puts one more in mind ofMinerva than Venus —Wood .

PALM YRA

When humbled na tions kiSS’d thy silken Chai ns ,Or fled dismayed from ZABDAS

’ 1 victor- sword:Y e t vain the hOpe to share the purple robe

2,

Or sna tch from ROMAN arms the empire of the globe .

1 Z enob ia’

s general.2 From the time of Adrian to tha t of Aurelian, for

ab ou t 140 years , this city continued to flouri sh, and

incre ase in wealth and power , to tha t d e gre e e , tha twhen the Em eror Val erian was taken prisoner bySapor , King 0 Persia , Od enathu s , one of the lords ofthis town ,

was able, whilst Ga llienus neglected his dutyb oth to his father and his country , to bring a powerfularmy into the field, and to recover Mesopotami a fromthe Persians , and to penetrate as far as their capitalc i ty Ctesiphon. Thereby rendering so cons iderable a

serv ice to the Roman sta te, that Gallienus thoughthims elf obliged to ve him a Share in the empire : ofwhi ch a ction Trebe u s Pollio, in the Life of Ga llienus ,

has these words : Lau d atur e7us (Gallieni) optimumfactum, qu i Od enatum participate imperio A u gu stumvoc avit, ej usque monetan, qu a P ersas captas traheret,cu d i 7u ss i t ; quad et Senatus et Urbs et omnis a tas g ra

tanter accepit. The same , in many places , speaks ofthis Od enathu s with grea t respect ,

and mentioninghis d e a th, he says : I ratu rn fu isse Deum Repub liccecre d o , qu i inter/ecto Va leri ano nolu itOd enatum reservare .

B u t by a strange reverse of fortune , this honour and

res pec t to Od enathus occasioned the sudden ruin and

su bversion of the City. For he and his son Herodesbe ing murd ered by Mmoniu s , their kinsman , and dyingwith the title of Augu stus , his wi fe Zenobia , in rightof her son Vab allathus , then a minor , pretended to takeupon her the government of the Ea st , and d id a d

minister it to admira tion : and when , soon a fter ,

Gallienus was murdered by hi s soldiers , She gra spedthe government of Egypt, and held it during the shortreign of the Emperor Claudius Gothicu s . But Aureliancoming to the imperial dignity

,would not suffer the title

of Aug ustus in this family, though he w a s contented

16 PALMYRA

Along the wild and wasted plainHis vet’ran bands the ROMAN monarch le d ,

And roll’

d his burning wheels o’

er heaps of SI:The prowling cha ca l heard a farThe devasta ting yell of war ,

And rush’d , with gloomy howl , to banquet on the de

tha t they Should hold under him as vice Cwsa ris

pla inly appears by the La tin coins , of Aurelianthe one Side , and Vab a llathu s on the other, with t]letters , V . C. R . IM. OR which P . Hard u in ha s njudiciously interpreted ,

V ICE CE SARIS RECTORPERII ORIENTIS, wi thout the title of Cae sar or Augusand with a laurel instead of a dia dem . But both Valathus and Zenobia a re styled ZEBAZTOI in the G1coins , made , it is probable within their own juris d i ctBut nothing less than a participa tion of the em

contenting Zenobia , and Aurelian persisting not to hit dismembered , he marched aga inst he r and ha tin two ba ttles routed he r forces , he Shut her up and

sieged he r in Pa lmyra , and the b ese ig ed finding 1the great resistance they made ava iled not aga inst 1resolute emperor, they yielded the town ; and Zentflying with her son was pursued and taken with w]Aurelian being contented spared the city, and mare

for Rome with his captive la dy but the inha bitsbelieving he would not return , set up again for thselves , and , as Vopiscu s has it, Slew the garrisonha d left in the place. Which Aurelian understandthough by this time he was gotten into Europe , vhis usual fierc eness , speedily returned , and collecta sufficient army by the way, he aga in took the cwithout any grea t op ition, and put it to the swwith uncommon crue ty (as he himself confesses iletter extant in VOpiscus ), and delivered it to the pillof his sold i ers —Philosophica l Transactions .

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18 PALM YRA

’

Twas TIME I know the FOE o r KINGS,His scythe , and sand , and eagle wingsHe ca st a burning look around ,

And wav’

d his bony hand , and frown’

d .

Far from the spectre’s scowl of fireFANCY’ S feeble forms retire ,He r a ir-born phantoms melt away,

Lik e stars before the rising d ay.

Ye s , all are flown lI stand alone ,

At ev’

ning’

s ca lm and pensive hour ,

’Mi d wasting domes ,And mou ld

’

ring tombs ,The wrecks of vanity and pow

’

r.

One Shadowy tint enwraps the pla inNo form is near, no sounds intrude,

To break the melancholy reignOf silence and of solitude.

How oft , in scenes like these , since TIME began ,

With downcast eye has CONTEMPLATION trod ,

Far from the haunts of FOLLY,V ICE , and MAN

,

To hold sublime communion with her GOD IHow oft , in scenes lik e the se , the pensive sageHas mourn

’

d the hand of FATE , severely just,WAR’S wa steful course , and DEATH

’S unsparing rage,And dark OBLIVION , frowning in the dust 1

Has mark’

d the tombs , tha t kings o’

erthrOwn de clare,Just wept their fall, and sunk to join them there I

In you proud fane, ma j estic in decay 1,

How oft of old the swelling hymn arose ,1 Architecture more especially lavished her orna

ments , and displayed her magnificence, in the temple

PALM YRA 19

In loud thanksgiving to the LORD OF DAY ,

Or pray’r for vengeance on triumphant foe s l’

Twas there , ere yet AURELIAN’

8 handHad kindled Ruin’s smou ld

’

ring brand ,

AS Slowly mov’d the sacred ChoirAround the altar’s rising fire ,

The priest , with wild and glowing eye,Bade the flower-bound victim d ie

And while he fed the incense-flame ,

With many a holy mystery ,

Prophetic inspiration cameTo teach th’

impending destiny,

And shook hi s venerable frameWith most portentous augury I

In notes of anguish, deep and Slow,

He told the coming hour of woe ;The youths and ma ids , with terror pale,In breathl ess torture hea rd the ta le ,

And Silence hungOn ev’

ry tong ue,While thus the voice prophetic rung

XIII

Whence was the hollow scream of fea r ,

Whose tones appall’

d my Shrinking ear

Whence was the modula ted cry,

That se em’

d to swell , and hasten by

of the sun, the tutelar deity of Palmyra . The squarecourt whi ch enclosed it w as Six hundred and seventynine feet each way, and a double range of columnsextended all round the inside . In the middle of thevacant space , the temple presents another front of fort

yseven feet by one hundred and twenty- four in deptand around it runs a peristyle of one hundred and

forty polumns .—Volney.

20 PALM YRA

Wha t sudden bla ze illum’

d the nightHa l ’twas DESTRUCTION ’ S meteor- light !Whence was the whirlwind’s eddying brea th PHa I ’twas the fiery blast of DEATH

Se e 1 the mighty GOD or BATTLESpreads abroad his crimson tra in 1

Discord’s myriad voices ra ttleO

’

e r the terror- Shaken pla in.

Banners stream, and helmets glare,Show’

ring arrows hiss in a ir

Echoing through the d ark en’

d skies ,Wildly-mingling murmurs rise,The clash of splendour-beaming stee l,The buckler ringing hollowly,

The cymbal’s Silver- sounding peal,The last deep groan of agony ,

The hurrying feetOf wild retrea t ,

The length’

ning shout of victory I

O’

er our pla ins the vengeful strangerPours , with hostile hopes ela te

Who shall check the threat’ning dangerWho escape the coming fate

Thou 1 that through the heav’

ns a far,When the shades of night retire ,

Proudly roll’st thy shining car,

Clad in sempiternal fire IThou I from whose benignant lightFiends of darkness , strange and fell,

Urge their ebon-

pinion’

d flightTo the centra l caves of hell I

PALM YRA z 1

SUN adored l attend our call IMust thy favour

’

d people fa ll PMust we leave our smiling pla ins,To groan benea th the stranger’s cha insRise, supreme in heav

’

nly pow’r,

On our foes destruction show’

r

B id thy fata l arrows fly,

Till their armies Sink and d ie

Through their adverse legions spreadPale DISEASE , and with

’

ring DREAD ,

Wild CONFUSION ’

S fev’

rish glare,HORROR, MADNESS , and DESPAIR l

Woe to thy numbers fierce and rude 1,Thou madly-rushing multitude,

Loud as the tempest tha t o’

er ocean ravesWoe to the na tions proud and strong,Tha t rush tumultuously along,

AS rolls the foami ng stream its long- resounding waves 1AS the noise of mighty seas ,AS the loudly-murmuring breeze,

Sha ll g ath’

ring nations rush, a pow’rful band

Ris e, GOD OF LIGHT, in burning wrath severe,And stretch, to blast their proud career,Thy arrow- darting hand I

Then shall their rank s to certa in fate be g iv’

n,

Then on their course DESPAIR her fires Sha ll cast,

1 Woe to the multitude of many e0ple , that makea noise like the noise of the sea s , an to the rushinnations , tha t make a rushing like the ru shing of migwa ters ! The nations sha ll ru sh like the grushing ofmany wa ters ; but GOD sha ll rebuke them, and theysha ll fle e far 03 , and shall be chased a s the cha ff of themountai ns before the wind , and like a rolling thingb efore the whirlwind .

—I sa iah,c. xvii , v . 1 2 .

22 PALM YRA

Then Shall they fly , to endless ruin d riv’

n,

As flies the thistle-down before the mountain-blast l

XVII

Ala s l in vain, in vain we callThe stranger triumphs in ou r fall IAnd FATE comes on , with ruthless frown ,

To strike PALMYRA’S splendour down .

Urg’

d by the steady brea th of TIME ,

The desert-whirlwind sweeps sublime ,The eddying sands i n mounta in- columnsBorne on the pinions of the gale ,In one concentred Cloud they sa il,Along the d arken’

d skies .

It falls 1 it falls 1 on THEDMOR’

S wallsThe whelming weight of ruin fallsTh

’

avenging thunder-bolt is hu rl’d ,

Her pride is blotted from the world ,

Her name unknown in storyThe trav

’

lle r on her site Shall stand ,

And seek, amid the desert- sand ,The records of her glory

He r palaces are cru sh’

d , her tow’

ts o’

erthrown ,

OBLIVION follows stern , and marks her for his own !

XVIII

How oft, the festa l board around ,

These time-worn walls among ,Has rung the full symphonious soundOf rapture-brea thing song l

Ah l little thought the wealthy proud ,

When rosy pleasure lau gh’

d aloud ,

Tha t here , amid their ancient land ,

The wand’rer of the distant daysShould mark, with sorrow-clouded gaze ,

The mig hty wilderness of sand

PALM YRA

While not a sound should meet his ear,

Save'

of the desert-gales tha t sweep ,

In modula ted murmurs deep ,

The wasted g raves above ,Of those who once had revell

’

d here,In happiness and love 1

XIX

Short is the space to man assign’

d

This earthly vale to trea dHe wanders , erring , weak, and blind ,By adverse passions le d .

LOVE , the balm of ev’

ry woe ,The dearest blessing man can knowJEALOUSY , whose pois

’

nou s brea thBlasts afie ction

’

s Op’

ning budStern DESPAIR, that laughs in deathBlack REVENGE , that bathes in blood

FEAR , that his form in da rkness Shrouds ,And trembles at the whisp

’

ring a ir

And HOPE , that pictures on the CloudsCelestial visions , false , but fa ir

All rule by turnsTo- d ay he burns

With ev’

ry pang of keen distressTo-morrow’

s skyBids sorrow fly

With dreams of promis’

d happiness .

From the earliest twilight-ray,

That mark ’

d CREATION ’ S natal d ay,

Till yesterday’s declining fire ,

Thus still have roll’d , perplex’

d by strife ,The many- cla shing wheels of life ,

3 3

And still Sha ll 1011, till TimE’

s la st beams expire .

24; PALM YRA

And thus , in ev’

ry a g e ,in ev’

ry clime ,While circling years sha ll fly,

The varying deeds tha t mark the present timeWill be but Shadows of the days gone by.

Along the desolated shore ,Where , broad and swift , EUPHRATES flows ,

The trav’

ll er’

s anxious eye can trace no moreThe spot where once the QUEEN OF CITIES

1 rose.Where Old PERSEPOLIS sublimely tow ’

r’

d ,

In cedar- groves emb ow’

r’

d ,

A rudely- splendid wreck a lone rema ins ,

The course of FATE no pomp or pow’r can shun.

Pollution tramples on thy giant- fanes ,Oh CITY OF THE SUN 1 2

Fall’

n are the TYRIAN domes of wea lth and joy.

The hundred gates of THEBES , the tow’

rs of TROYIn shame and sorrow pre - ord a in

’

d to cease ,Proud SALEM met th

’

irrevocable doomIn darkness sunk the arts and arms of GREECE,And the long glories of imperial ROME .

XXII

When the tyrant’s iron handThe mounta in-piles of MEMPHIS ra is

’

d ,

Tha t still the storms of angry TIME defy,

In self- adoring thought he g a z’

d ,

And bade the massive labours stand ,Till NATURE’S self should d ie

Presumptuous fool I the death-wind came,And swept away thy worthl ess nameAnd ages , with insidious flow,

Sha ll lay those blood - bought fabrics low .

1 Babylon .

2 Ba lb ec , the Heliopolis of the Greeks and Roma ns.

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26 PALM YRA

The youthful d ay retu rns aga in,But man returns no more.Though WINTER’S frown severeDeform the was ted year,

SPRING smiles aga in, with renova ted bloomBut wha t sweet SPRING, with genial brea th.Sha ll chase the icy sleep of dea th ,

The d ark and cheerless winter of the tombHark I from the mansions of the dead ,

Wha t thrilling sounds of deepest import Spread lSublimely mingled wi th the eddying gal e ,

Full on the desert- a ir these solemn accents sa il

XXIV

Unthinking man 1 and dost thou weep,

That clouds o’

erc as t thy little d ay PThat DEATH ’S stern hands so quickly sweepThy ev

’

ry earthly hope awayThy rapid hours in darkness flow,

But well those rapid hours employ ,

And they Sha ll lea d from rea lms of woeTo rea lms of everla sting joy.

For though thy FATHER and thy GODWave o’

e r thy hea d His chast’

ning rod ,

Benignantly severe ,Yet future blessing s Shall repa ir ,

the windows , the rank grass of the wall waved roundhis head . Desolate is the dwelling of Moina , Silenceis in the house of her fathers . Ra ise the song of mourning ,

oh bards , over the land of strangers . They havebut fallen before u s for, one d ay, we must fall. Whdost thou build the ha ll , son of the winged daysThou look est from thy towers to- d ay yet a few years ,and the blast of the desert comes it howls in thy em tycourt

,and whistles round thy half-worn shi elcf

Ossian .

THE VISI ONS OF LOVE 27

In tenfold measure , ev’

ry care,That marks thy progress here.

XXV

Bow THEN To HIM , for HE is GOOD ,

And loves the works His hands have madeIn ea rth, in air, in fire , in flood ,

His parent-bounty shines display’d.

Bow THEN To HIM , for HE is JUST ,Though mortals scan His ways in va in

Repine not , child ren of the dustFor HE in mercy sends ye pa in .

Bow THEN To HIM , for HE is GREAT ,And wa s , ere NATURE , TIME , and FATE ,

Be gan their mysti c flightAnd still shall be, when consummating flameSha ll plunge this universal frame

In everlasting night.Bow THEN To HIM ,

the LORD of ALL ,Whose nod bids empires rise and fall ,EARTH , HEAV

’N , and NATURE

’S SIRETo HIM , Who, matchless and a lone ,Has fix

’

d in boundless space His throne ,fnchang

’

d , unchanging still , while worlds and sunsexpire l

THE V ISIONS OF LOVE

[Published in 1 806]

Senza l’ama b ile

Dio d i Citera ,

I d i non toranoDi primavera

Non spira un z e ffiro.

Non spunta nu fior—Metastasio.

To chas e the clouds of lif e’s tempestu ous hours ,

0 strew its short but weary way with flow ’

rs ,

28 THE VISIONS OF LOVE

New hopes to ra ise, new feelings to impart ,And pour celestial balsam on the heartFor this to man was lovely woman g iv

’

n,

The last, best work , the noblest gi ft of HEAV’

N.

At EDEN ’S gate, as ancient legends say,

The flaming sword for ever bars the wayNot Ours to taste the joys our parents shar’d ,But pitying NATURE half our loss repa ir

’

d ,

Our wounds to heal , our murmurs to remove ,She left mankind the PARADISE of LOVE.

All - conq u’

ring LOVE 1 thy pow’

rfu l reign surroundsMan’s wildest haunts , and earth

’

s remotest boundsAlike for thee th’ unta inted bosom glows’Mi d eastern sands and hyperborean snowsThy darts unerring fly with strong control,Tame the most stem , and nerve the softest soul ,Check the swift savage of the sultry zone ,And bend the monarch on his g litt

’

ring throne.

XVhen wakefu l MEMORY bids the mind exploreThe half-hid deeds of years tha t are no more ,How few the scenes her hand can picture thereOf heart- felt bliss untroubled by a care 1Yet many a charm can pow

’

rfu l FANCY ra ise ,To point the smiling path of future daysThere too will HOPE her genial influence blend ,Fa ithless , but kind a flatt

’

rer , but a friend .

But most to cheer the lover’s lonely hours ,Creative FANCY wakes her magic pow

’

rS

Most strongly pours , by ardent love refin (1,

Her brightest Visions on the youthful mind .

Hence , when at eve with lonely steps I roveThe flow

’

r- ename ll’

d pla in or dusky grove ,

THE VISIONS OF LOVE 29

Or pre ss the bank with g rassy tufts o’

ersprea d ,

Whe re the brook murmurs o’

e r its pebbly bedThen steals thy form , ROSALIA , on my Sight ,In a rtle ss charms pre - eminently brightBy HOPE inspir

’

d , my raptu r’

d thoughts engageTo tra c e the lines of FATE’S mysterious pageAt once in a ir , the past, the present , fadeIn fa iry-tints the fu ture stands d isplay

’

d

No Cloud s arise , no shadows intervene ,To veil or dim the Visionary scene .

Within the sacred altar’s mystic shade ,I se e thee stand , in spotless whi te array

’

d

I hear thee there thy home , thy name resign ,

I hear the awful vow that sea ls thee mine.Not on my birth propitious FORTUNE smil

’

d ,

Nor proud AMBITION mark’

d me for he r childFor me no dome with festa l splendour shinesNo pampe r’d la cq u ies spread their leng th

’

ning lines ,No vena l crowds my nod Obsequious wa itNo summer- friends besiege my narrow gateJoys such as these, if joys indeed they be,Indulgent NATURE ne’er d esign

’

d for me

I ask them not She play’d a kinder partShe gave a nobler gift , ROSALIA

’S heart.The simple dwelling b y a ffection rear

’

d

The smiling pla ins , by calm content end ear’

d

The classic book- case , d eck’

d with learning’s store ,Rich in historic truth, and bardic loreThe g arden-walk s , in NATURE

’ S liv’

ry d re ss ’dWI11 these sufli c e to make ROSALIA b le ss ’d 1

And will she never feel a wish to roamBeyond the limits of our rural home

How swe et, when SPRING has crown’

d , by genia lshow

’rs ,

The woods with verdure, and the fields wi th flow’

rs .

3 0 THE VISIONS OF LOVE

When fleeting SUMMER holds his burning reign,Or fruitful AUTUMN nods wi th golden grain ,With thee , dear girl, ea ch well-known pa th to tread,Where blooming Shrubs their richest odours shed ,With thee to mark the seasons’ bright career,The var ied blessings of the rip

’

ning year.

When frost- crown’d WI-NTER binds the earthCha ins ,

And pours hi s snow- storms on the whit’ning pla ins ,Then Shall the pow

’r of constant LOVE be found ,

To chase the d e ep’

ning gloom tha t low’rs around.

Beside the cheerful fire’s famili ar bla ze,Shall MEMORY trace the deeds of long-past daysOf those propitious hours when first I stroveTo w in thy gentle e ar with ta le s of love ,When, whi le thy angel- blushes ha lf- conc ea l’dThe kind consent thy bashful smiles reveal

’

d ,

From those bright eyes a soft expression stole ,That spoke the silent language of the soul.

Or haply then the poet’s song may cheerThe dark death- season of th’

a ccomplish’

d yea r 1

Together then we’ll roam the sacred pla in ,Where the bright NINE in ceaseless glory reignBy HOMER le d , through TROJAN battles sweepWith V IRGIL cleave the tempest-bea ten deepTrace the bold flights of SHAKESPEARE’S muse ofStrike the wild cords of GRAY’

S enraptur’

d lyreFrom MILTON learn with holy zeal to glowOr weep with OSSIAN o

’

er a tal e of woe .Nor less sha ll MUSIC charm her pow

’

r sublimeShall oft beguile the ling

'

ting steps of TIMEThen , a s I wa tch , while my Rosalia sings ,He r seraph fingers sweep the sounding strings ,On soft response to sorrow

’

s melting lay,

Or joy’S loud swell , that steals ou r cares away,

~THE VI SI ONS OF LOVE

My heart Shall vibra te to the heav’

nly sound,And bless the stars our mutual fates that bound.

And oft, when darkness veils the stormy skies ,

Benea th our roof shall FRIENDSHIP’S voice ariseOn ev

’

ry breas t her sa cred influence pour’d ,Sha ll crown with g en

’

rous mirth our social boardThe chosen few, to TASTE and VIRTUE dear ,

Sha ll meet a welcome, Simple , but sincere.

Not from our door , his humble pray’

r denied ,The friendless man shall wander unsuppliedNe

’

or shall the wretch, whom fortune’

s ills as sail,Tell there in vain his melancholy ta leThy heart, where NATURE

’S noblest feelings glow,

Will throb to heal the bending stranger’s woeOn mercy’s errand wilt thou oft exploreThe crazy dwellings of the ne ighb

’

ring poor,To blunt the stings of want’s unspar ing rage,To smooth the short and pa inful path of ag e ,

The childless widow’

s drooping head to raise,And chee r her soul wi th hopes of better daysFor thee the pray

’

r a ffliction’

s child shall frame ,And lisping orphans bless ROSALIA

’S name.

Soon shall new objects thy a ffection share,New h0pes , new duties cla im ROSALIA’S care.How will thy anxious eye exulting traceThe Charms and Virtues of thy infant- race lThy tender hand with sense and taste refin’

d

Shall stamp each impulse of the rip’

ning mind ,And early tea ch their little

‘steps to stray

Through V IRTUE’S paths , and WISDOM’S flow ’

ry

Thus may our lives in one smooth tenor flowPosssess

’

d of thee, I ask no more below.

3 !

3 2 MARI A ’

S RETURN

Tha t constant love , which b less’

d with genial raysThe bright and happy spring-time of our days ,Shall still dispel the clouds of woe and strifeFrom the full summer of progressive life .

The hand of TIME may quench the ardent fireOf rising passion , and of young desireBut that pure flame esteem first taught to burnCan only perish in the silent urn.

And when the la st , the solemn hour draws near ,

That bids u s part from all that charm’

d u s here ,Then on ou r thoughts the he av’

nly hope shall rise ,To meet in higher bliss , in better Skies ,

In those bright mansions of the just above ,Where a ll is RAPTURE , INNOCENCE , and LOVE .

MARIA ’

S RETURN TO HER NATIVE COTTAGE

[First published in 1 806]

Si perda la Vita ,

Finisc a ill martireE meglio morire ,Che V iver cosi .—Metasta sio.

THE whit’

ning groundIn frost is bound

The snow is swiftly fallingWhile coldly blows the northern breeze ,And whistles through the leafless trees ,

In hollow Sounds appalling.

On this cold pla in ,

Now rea ch’

d wi th pa in ,

Once stood my father’

s dwelling :Where smiling pleasure once w as found ,

Now desola tion frowns around ,

And wintry blasts are yelling.

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FIOLEAR, KING OF NORWA Y 3 5

But here, amid the d e ep’

ning snows ,To lay me down and perish

Dea th’s icy dartInvades my heart

Just HEAV ’N l all-good ! all-see ing !

Thy ma tchless mercy I implore,When I must wake, to Sleep no more ,In realms of endless being 1

FIOLFAR, KING OF NORWAY 1

[First published in 1806]

a gminaFerra ta vasto d iru it impetu

Horace [Od es Iv, xiv,29

IN the dark-rolling waves at the verge of the westThe steeds of DELLINGER 2 ha d ha sten’d to rest ,While HRIMEAx 3 a d vanc

’

d through the star- Spangledplain.

And shook the thi ck dews from his g rey-flowing maneThe moon with pal e lustre was Shining on high ,

And meteors shot re d down the pa ths of the sky.

1 Though the names of Odin and Thor , the Fata lSisters , and the Ha ll of Va lha lla , be familiar to thereaders of English poetry, yet, as the minutiae of theGothic Mythology ar e not very generally known , I havesubjoined a few Short explana tory notes , which , thoughthey cannot be expected to a fford much insight intothe general system , will, I trust , be sufficient to enablemy readers to comprehend such parts of it as are a lludedto in this poem .

1 Day.

1 The steed of the evening twilight.

36 FI OLFAR, KING OF NORWA Y

By the shore of the ocea n FIOLPAR reclin’

d ,

Where through the rock~fissu res lou d-mu rmur’

d thewind.

For sweet to his ear was the d e epod ashing flow

Of the foam-cover’

d billows tha t thund er’d below.

Alas I he excla im’

d . we re the hopes of my youth,

Thoug h ra is’

d by aflection, unfounded on truthYe a re flown, ye swe e t prospe cts , dece itfully fa ir,As the light~rolling gossame r melts into airAs the wild-bea ting ocean, wi th turbulent roar,Efiaces my steps on the sands of the shore lThy wa ters , oh NIORD !

1 tumultuously roll ,And such are the passions tha t wa r in my sou l

Thy meteors , oh NORVER I 1 malignantly da rt ,And such are the dea th-flames tha t burn in my heart.NITALPHA I my love I on the hill and the pla in ,

In the va le and the wood , have I sought thee in va in ;Through the na tions for thee have I carried a farThe sunshine of peace and the tempests of warThrough danger and boil I my heroes have le d ,

Till hope’

s lates t spark in my bosom was d ea d l

Cold , silent, and dark are the halls of thy sires ,And hush

’

d are the harps , and extingu ish’

d the fires ;The wild autumn-blast in the lofty hall roars ,And the yellow leaves 1011 through the half-Open doors.

NITALPHA 1 whe n rapture invited thy stay,Did force or inconstancy bear thee awayAh, no ! though in va in I thy footsteps pursu e,I will not, I cannot, believe thee untrue :Perchance thou art d oom

’

d in confinement to moan.To dwell in the rock’s dreary caverns alone ,And Lou ’

s 11 cruel mandate s . while fas t thy tears flow,

Forbid thy FIOLPAR to solace thy woe .

1 The god of the sea and wind .1 Nig ht.

1 L011 , though he ranked a t the ScandinavianDeities. ha d all the a ttribu tes a demon. He was

FIOLFAR, KING OF NORWA Y 3 7

Condemn thee unvarying anguish to bear ,

A nd leave me a prey to the pangs of despa irHa whence were those accents portentous and dread ,L ike the mystical tones of the ghosts of the dead ,

In e choes redoubling tha t rung through the gloom ,

A s the thunder resounds in the vaults of the tombFIOLPAR 1 —He started , and wond

’

ring descriedA sable—Clad form stand ing tall by his SideHis sou l-piercing eyes as the eagle’s were bright ,And his raven-ha ir flow’

(1 on the bree zes of night .FIOLFAR l he cried , thy aflii ction forsake

To hope and revenge let thy bosom awakeFor he, tha t NITALPHA from liberty tore ,IS LOCHLIN’S proud monarch , the bold YRRODORE .

Still constant to thee , She the tra itor a b horr’

d

Haste l haste let thy va lour her Virtu e rewardFor her let the ba ttle empurple the pla inIn the moment of conquest I meet thee aga inHe ce as

’

d , and FIOLPAR beheld him no moreNor long paus

’

d the youth on the dark- frowning shoreWha te’er be thy na ture , oh stranger l he sa id ,

Thou hast call’

d down the tempest on YRRODORE ’

S

The broad-beaming buckler and keen- biting gla iveSha ll ring and resound on the fields of the brave ,And vengeance shall burst, in a death- rolling flood ,

And deluge thy altars , VALFANDER 1, with blood

To LODA’S dark CIRCLE and mystica l STONE 2,With the g rey-

g ather’

d moss of long ages o’

e rg rown,

the enemy of Gods and Men, and the author of crimesand ca lami ties .

1 A name of Odin , the chief of the gods .

1 The circle of Loda , or Loden, w as a rude Circle of

3 8 FI OLFAR, KING OF NORWA Y

While the bla ck car of NORVER was centra l in a ir.

Did the harp-bearing b ards of FIOLPAR repa ir

The wild-brea thing Chords , a s they solemnly sung ,

In d éep modu la tions responsively rungTo the hall of VALHALLA 1 , where monarchs repose ,The full-swelling war- song symphoniously rose :

The mounta ins of LOCHL IN sha ll ring with alarms .For the heroes of NORWAY are rising in armsThe heroes of NORWAY destruction sha ll pourOn the wid e- sprea ding pla ins of the bold YRRODORE .

VALPANDER look down from thy throne in the skies 1Our suppliant song s from thy alta r ariseBe thou too propitiou s , invincible THOR l 1

And lend thy strong a id to our banners of war .

A s the white-bea ting stream from the rock rushe s down,FIOLFAR

’

S young warriors will speed to renown .

Ye spirits of Chi eftains , tremendous in fight ITha t dwell with VALPANDER in halls of delightAwhile from your cloud- circled mansions desc endOn the steps of your sons through the battle a ttend ,

When the raven sha ll hover on dark flapping wing ,

And the eagle shall fw d on the foe s of our king l’

As full to the wind rose the soul- thrilling tones ,

Strange murmurs rung wild from the moss- coveredstones

The ghosts of the mighty, rejoicing. came forth .

And roll’

d the ir thin forms on the b lasts of the nor ch ;On light-flying meteors triumphantly driv

’

a .

They sca tter’

d their signs from the centre of heav’

n.

The skies we re a ll glowing. portentou sly bright.

stones , used as a plac e of worship among st the Scan.

1 The hall of 0d in, where the s”ts of the heroes

who died in ba ttle drank mea d and car from the skulls

a The Gothic Mars.

FIOLFAR, KING OF NORWA Y 3 9

W ith strong corusca tions of vibra ting light 1 :In shadowy forms , on the long- streaming glare,The ins ignia of ba ttle shot swift through the airInfilines and in circles successively whirl’d ,

Fantastica l arrows and jav’

lins were hurl’d 2,Tha t, flashing and falling in mimic afiray,

In the distant horizon died darkly away,

Where a blood- dropping banner se em’

d slowly to sa il ,And expand its re d folds to the death- breathing ga le.FIOLFAR look

’

d forth from his time-honour’d halls ,

Where the trophies of battle emb la zon’

d the wa llsHe heard the fa int song as at distance it sw ell’d ,

And the bla z ing of ether with triumph beheldHe saw the whi te flames inexhaustibly stream ,

And he knew tha t hi s fathers rode bright on the beam,

1 It is well known with what superstitious anxietythe A urora Borea li s was formerly regarded . Ignoranceand credulity rea dily discerned in its brilliant phenomena the semblance of a

'

eria l ba ttles : and it is notsurprising, tha t from such a source the valiant shoulddraw prognostics of victory, and the timid of defea tand destruction. Thus Lucan , in describing the prod ig ies whi ch preceded the civil w ar

Tum ne q u a futuriSpec saltem trepida s mentes levet , addita fa tiPe joris manifesta fid es , superiq u e mina c e sProd ig iis terras implerunt, aethe ra , pontum .

Ignota obsc ures vid erunt sidera nocte s ,Ard entemq u e polum flammis , coeloq u e volantesObliquas per inane faces , crinemq u e timend i

Sideris , et terris mu tantem regna cometen .

Fulgu ra fa llaci micu erunt crebra sereno,Et varias ignis denso dedil aere formas

Nunc jacu lum longo, nunc sparso lumine lampa sErnic u it coelo. i , 522

-

3

3 The northern lights which appeared in London inx560 were denominated bu rning spears .

40 FIOLFAR. KING OF NORWA Y

Tha t the spirits of warriors of ages long pastWere flying sublime on the wings of the blast.

Ye heroes I he cried .‘that in da nger arm .

The bulwark of friends and the terror of foesBy ODIN with glory eterna lly crown

’d

By valour and virtue for ever renown'

d

Like yours may my arm in the conflict be strong ,

Like yours m y my name b e recorded in song .

And when HrLDA ane srA ‘my spix-it sha ll b ear

The j oys of VALaALLA and ODIN to share ,

Oh then may you smile on the dee ds I have done.And bend forward with joy to acknowledg e your son l

I"

The sword clatter’

d fie rcely on he lm and on shield,For NORWAY and Loc um : ha d met in the fieldThe long lances shiver’d the swift arrows flew,

The string shrilly twang d on the flexible yew ,

Rejoicing. the VALxm strode through the pla in.And guided the dea th

-blow , and singled the sla in .

Long, long d id the virgins of Loc um» : deploreThe you ths whom their arms should ene ircle no moreFor , strong as the whirlwinds the forest tha t tea r.And strew with its boughs the vast bosom of a ir ,

The NORWEYANS bore down with alI-conquering fa ce ,

And havoc and slaughter a tte nded their course .

Frow n through danger tri umphantly trod .

And scatter’d confusion and terror abroad

Ma j es tic as BALDER 3 . tremendous as THOR.

He plung’

d in the re d - foaming torrent of war

‘Two of the Va lkyrm. or fa ta l sisters“The Scand inavian Apollo , the son of Odin. He

was the most amiable and bea utiful of all the De lt a :and drove the chariot of the sun. till . b e ing h lle d byHoder through the machina tions of Lok , he was oom

Eie’ll'

d to 61:8his res idenc e in the pa la ce bf He la, whm

ofi ce was transferre d to Dellinger .

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42 FIOLFAR, KING OF NORWA Y

Still d e stin’

d to roam through the frost- cover’d plain,

Where HELA has fix’

d her inflexible reign,Till the d ay when existence and na ture shall end ,

When the last fatal TWILIGHT on ea rth shall descend,When FENRIS and Lox, by all beings accurst ,Their long- galling cha ins sha ll indignantly burst,When the trump of HE IMDALLER the signal shall pealOf the evils CREATION is d estin’

d to feel.And SURTUR shall sca tter his ru in- fraught fire ,

And earth , a ir , and ocean , burn , sink, and expire !

Now drea ry and dark wa s the field of the dead,For NORWAY had conq u e r

’

d , and LOCHLIN ha d fled :

The hoarse raven croak’

d from the blood- streamingground ,

Where the dea d and the dying lay mingled aroundThe warriors of NORWAY were sunk in repose ,And rush’d , in idea , aga in on their foesYet lonely and sa d d id FIOLFAR rema inWhere the monar ch of LOCHLIN had fall

’

n on thepla in

In the silence of sorrow he lea u ’d on his spear ,For YRRODORE

’

S words echoed still in hi s ear :

When sudden , through twilight, aga in he descriedThe sable- clad form standing ta ll by his side :Behold me , Fiolfar : my promi se I keep :

NITALPHA is fetter’d in magical sleep .

Yet I to thy arms can the ma iden restore ,A

'

nd pa ssion and vengeance shall harm her no more.The mona rch of LOCHL IN , enra g

’

d at he r scorn,

Confin’

d her in DEURANIL’

S caverns forlorn ,

Nor dar’d he endeavour , though deeply he sigh’

d ,

By force to obta in what afiection deniedStrange being ! wha t art thou thy na ture declareThe name of NERIMNHER from morta ls I bear

FIOLFAR, KING OF NORWA Y 43

’Mid desola te rocks , in a time-hollow ’

d cell ,At d ista nce from man and hi s vices I dwellBut, obedient to ODIN , I haste from the sha de,When virtu e a fflicted solicits my a id

For the mystica l art to my knowledge is g iv’n ,

That can check the pale moon as she rolls through theheav

’

n,

Can stri ke the dark dwellers of NILFHI L with dread ,And brea the the wild verse tha t awakens the dead .

My voice can the spells of thy riva l destroyThen follow, FIOLFAR , I lead thee to joy IAs flow’d the deep a ccents mysterious and stern ,

FIOLFAR felt hope to his bosom returnHe follow’d the stranger by va le and by flood ,

Till they pierc’

d the recesses of DURANI L’

5 woodThrou gh untrodden thickets of a sh and of yew,

Whose close- twining boughs shut the sky from theirview ,

Slow- toiling they wound , till before them aroseThe bla ck-yawning caves of NITALPHA s repose.A blue-burning vapour shone d im through the gloom ,

And roll’

d its thin curls round a rude- fashion’d tomb,Where the weary DUERGI , by magic constra in

’

d ,

Wi th eyes never closing, their station ma inta in’

d .

Lou d shouting they rose when the strangers a d vanc ’

d ,

But fear g laz’

d their eye s , and they pau s’

d as entranc’d ,

Whil e the mighty NERIMNHER , in fa te- favou r’

d hour ,Thus b reath’

d the strong spell tha t extingu ish’

d their

pow’

r

By the hall of VALHALLA , where heroes repose ,And d rink beer and mead from the skulls of their foesBy the virtues of FREYER 1 , and va lour of THOR ;By the twelve giant- sisters , the rulers of war ;By the unreveal’d a ccents , in secret express (1Of old by VALFANDER to BALDER address’d ;

The son of Niord .

HENRIETTE

By the ills which the gu ilty and dastardly shareBy HELA ’

s dominions of pain and despa irBy SURTU ’

s wide regions of dea th- spreading fireHence , children of evil I DUERGI , retire lThe DUERGI with yells made the cavern resound ,

A s , reluctantly yielding , they sunk through the grouAnd the youth felt his breast with anxiety swell ,While thus the magician concluded the spell

Fair maid , whom the tomb’s dreary confinesround ,

Whom the dark ,iron slumber of magic has bound

Let life and delight te - illumine thine eyes ,Arise , star of beauty ! NITALPHA , arise !The vapour-flame died in a bright-beaming flashThe tomb burst in twain with an earth- shaking or:

All wonder, NITALPHA arose in her charms ,

She knew her FIOLFAR , she flew to his arms ,

And he found ev’ry shadow of sorrow depart,As he clasp

’

d the dear ma iden aga in to his heart.

HENRIETTE

[Published in 1 806]

LOUD and long the church-bells ringingSpread their signals on the a ir

Tow’

rd s his ELLEN lightly springing,Fa ithless EDWARD hastens there.

Can he dare to wed anotherCan he all his vows forget

Can he truth and conscience smother,And desert hi s HENRIETTE

Pale remorse my steps a ttending,Whither can I hope to flyWhen sha ll all my woes have endingNever , never, till I d ie I

THE OLD MAN’S COMPLA INT

Can the youth who once a d or’d me ,

Can he hear withou t regret,Dea th has tha t repose restored me ,

He has stol’n from HENRIETTE

Brightly smiles the summer morningOn my EDWARD

’

s nuptia l d ayWhile the bells , with joyous warning,

Call to love and mirth away.

How this wretched heart is throbbingEre the ev’

ning sun shall set,Dea th shall ease my bosom

’

s sobbing,Dea th shall comfort HENRIETTE .

Cruel youth , farewell for ever 1False as thou has t been to me

,

Ne’

er till FATE my thread shall sever ,Can I turn my thoughts from thee.

Guilt and shame thy soul enslaving,Thou may

”st weep and tremble yet,

When thou seest the willow wavingO

’

er the grave of HENRIETTE

THE OLD MAN’

S COMPLA INT

[Published in 1806]

ON Eternity'

s confines I stand ,

And look back on the pa ths I have trodI pant for the summoning hand ,

That shall call me away to my GOD I

My temples are sprinkled with snowThe sand s of existence decline

The dwelling is cheerless and low ,

The dwelling that soon must be mine.

46 THE DEATH OF CHARLES PEMBROKE

No longer beside me are foundThe forms that of old were so dear

No longer the voices resound ,That once were so sweet to mine car.

The wife of my bosom is lostLong, long, has she sunk into sleep

My boy on the ocean was toss’

d ,

He rests in the caves of the deep.

A villa in my daughter betray”(1

Her home and her fa ther she fled

But HEAV ’

N has in justice repa idThe tears he has cau s

’

d me to shed .

He r pea ce and her honour he stoleAb and on

’

d , despa iring , she diedRemorse quickly se iz

’

d on his soul,And he rests in the grave by her side.

Oh where ar e the friends of my youth ,

The lovely, the good , and the braveAll flown to the mansions of TRUTH 1All pass

’

d through the ga tes of the grave

On parents , and children , and friends ,Have mortality’s arrows been d riv’

n

But swiftly the darkness de scends ,

And my spirit sha ll j oin them in HEAV ’

N

ON THE DEATH OF CHARLES PEMBROKE ,E

{Published in 1 806}

WHERE yon g reen tombs their heads promiscuora ise ,

With tearful eyes let FRIENDSHIP mark the spotWhere PEMBROKE slumbers . Upright and sincere ,For public worth esteem

’

d , for priva te lov’

d ,

THE RAINBOW

ving V IRTUE smil’

d upon his life,Ift- eyed sorrow consecrates his urn.

tha t spot where rests his honour’d dust,mrfive child may spend his idle hours ,Iking that the silent form belownce lik e him , like him was wont to play,»wn to care. Thrice happy innocent 1zoo shal t fall , and on thy humble g ravea child , unthinking as thyself ,as the lark, and rosy as the mom ,

rolic in his turn. Thus ’

tis with man

u tumn’

s leaves the present ra ce decays ,r race su cceed s 1. But a fter deathIIRTUE live, and live to d ie no more ,zer climes , from morta l eyes retir

’

d .

PEMBROKE , there thy sa inted spirit dwells ,rlasting rest there , far remov

’

d

ill the troubles of the world , enjoysre reward of goodness here below,

1, boundless happiness above.

THE RA INBOW

[Published in 1 806]

my has pass’

d in storms , though not unmix’

d

ransitory ca lm . The western clouds ,ing slow, unveil the glorious sun ,

c in decline . The wat’ry ea stwith the many- tinted a rch of HEAv’

N .

1 it as a pledge that brighter sk iesless the coming morn . Thus rolls the d ay,

art dark d ay of life with tempests thus ,s ting sunshine cheq u e r

’

d . At its close ,

1of. Homer , [I liad vi , 146

47

4s FAREWELL TO MATI LDA

When the d read hour draws near , tha t bursts all

All commerce w ith the world , RELIGION poursHopE ’

s fa iry- colours on the virtu ous mind ,

And ,like the ra inbow on the ev’

ning clouds ,Gives the bright promise that a happier dawnShall chase the night and silence of the grave.

ELLEN

[Published in 1 806]

THE marble tomb, in sculptur’

d state d isplay’

d ,

Decks the vile earth where wealthy vice is la idBut no va in pomp its hollow splendour throws ,Where Beauty, V irtue , Innocence , repose.The cypress tow’

ts , the waving willows weep,Where ELLEN sleeps the everla sting sleep ,

Where with a sigh the passing stranger seesThe long rank grave- grass bending in the breeze .

FAREWELL TO MATILDA

[Pu blished in 1 806]

Ou i , pour jama is

Cha ssons l’imageDe la volageQu e j

’

a d ora is— Parny.

MATILDA , farewell l FATE has d oom’

d u s to par t ,But the prospect occasions no pang to my heartNO longer is love with my reason at strife,Though once thou wert dearer, far dearer than life.

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so M IRA

Repent not , MATILDA , return not to me

Unavailing thy grief, thy repentance will beIn va in will thy vows or thy smiles be resum

’

d ,

For LOVE , once exting u ish’

d , is never re lum’

d .

MIRA

[Published in 1806]

BENEATH yon yew- tree’s silent shade ,Long , tufted grass the spot disclosesWhere, low in dea th untimely laid ,

Pa le MIRA’

s silent form reposes .

The pla intive bird , at ev’

ning- close,

Pours there her softly-mournful numbersThe earth its earliest sweets bestows ,

To deck the grave where MIRA slumbers.

There SUMMER’S brightest flow ’

rs appearThere oft the hollow breeze is swelling

The passing stranger drops a tearOn MIRA

’

s dark and narrow dwelling.

The moralist , with musing eyes ,

Loves there his pensive steps to measureHow va in is human pride he criesNow soon is lost ea ch earthly trea sure l

To snatch the fleeting bubble, joy,

How wea k is ev’ry fond endeavourWe rush to seize the g litt

’

ring toyIt bursts , it vanishes for ever I

How soon our plea sures pass away 1How soon our bliss must yield to sorrow l

The friend , with Whom we smile to- day,

May wither in his shroud to morrow l

AMARI LLI S

AMARILLIS

FROM THE PASTOR FIDO

[Pu blished in 1 806]

DUNQUE addio , care selve .

Ca re mie selve , addio.

Ricevete questi ultimi sospiri ,Fin che sciolta d a ferro ingiusto, e crudo,Torni la mia fredd’ ombraA le vostr

’ ombre amate.Che ne l penoso infernoNon puO g ir innocente ,Ne puo star tra bea tiDisperata e dolente .

i’ moro, e senza colpa ,

E senza frutto e senza te , cor mioMi moro, oime , MIRTILLO .

Dear woods , your sacred haunts I leaveA dieu 1 my parting sighs receive 1A d ieu I clear na tive woods , adieuWhich I no more am d oom

’

d to view ,

From ev’ry joy remov’

d

Till from the cold and cruel urnMy melancholy shade sha ll turnTo seek your shades b elov’

d .

For free from g u ilt I cannot goTo j oin the wa iling ghosts below,

Nor can despa ir and bleeding loveFind refuge with the blest above .

In youth and innocence I d ieThe cold g rave- stone must be my pillowFrom life, from love , from h0pe I flyA di eu a long adieu l MIRTILLO

SI

52 CLONAR AND TLAM IN

CLONAR AND TLAMIN

IMITATEDFROM A LITTLE POEM IN MACPHERSON’S NOTESON OSSIAN

[Pu blished in 1 806]

The loves of Clonar and Tlamin were renderedfamous in the north by a fragment of a lyric poem, stillpreserved , which is ascribed to Ossian . It i s a d ialogue betw een Clonar and Tlamin. She begins witha soliloq uy ,

which he overhears

TLAMIN

SON of CONGLAs of IMOR l thou first in the battle IOh CLONAR , young hunter of dun- sided roes 1Where the wings of the wind through the tall branches

rattle ,Oh,where does my hero on rushes repose

By the oak of the valley , my love , have I found thee,Where swift from the hill pour thy loud-rolling

streamsThe heard of the thistle flies sportively round thee ,

And dark o’

er thy face pass the thoughts of thydreams .

Thy dreams are of scenes where the war- tempest rages :TLAMIN

’

s youthful warrior no dangers appal :Even now, in idea , my hero engages ,On Erin’s green pla ins , in the wars of Fingal.

Ha lf hid , by the grove of the hill, I retireYe blue mists of Lutha 1 why rise ye between PWhy hide the young warrior whose soul is all fire ,

Oh why hide her love from the eyes of TLAMIN

FOLDATH IN THE CA VERN‘

OF MOMA 53

CLONAR

AsZthe vision that flies with the beams of the morning,While fix’

d on the mind its bright images prove ,So fled the young sunbeam these valleys adorningWhy flies my TLAMIN from the sight of her love

TLAMIN

Oh CLONAR 1 my heart will to joy be a stranger,

Till thou on our mountains again shalt be seenThen why wilt thou rush to the regions of danger ,

Far, far from thefilove of the mournful TLAM IN

CLONAR

The signals of war are from Selma resoundingWith morning we rise on the dark-rolling wave

Towards green-valleyed Erin our vessels are boundingI rush to renown , to the fields of the brave

Yet around me when war’s hottest thunders sha ll rattle,Thy form to my soul ever present shall be

And should dea th’s icy hand checkmyprogress in ba ttle,The last sigh of CLONAR sha ll rise but for thee .

FOLDATH IN THE CAVERN OF MOMA

FROM THE SAME

[Published in 1806]

FOLDATH (add ressing the spirits of his fathers )

IN your presence dark I standSpirits of my sires disclose ,

Shall my steps o’

er A tha ’

s land ,Pass to Ullin of the roes

54 DREAMS

ANSWER

Thou to Ullin’s pla ins sha lt goThere shall rage the battle loud

O’

er the fall’n thy fame sha ll grow ,

Like the g ath’

ring thunder-cloud .

There thy blood- sta in’

d sword sha ll gleam ,

Till , around while danger roars ,Cloncath, the reflected beam,

Come from Moru th’

s sounding shores .

DREAMS

FROM PETRONIUS ARBITER

[Published in 1806]

Somnia , qu a mente s'

lu d unt volitantib u s umbris , etc .

— Petronius [Satyricom civ] .

DREAMS , which , benea th the hov’

ring shades of night,Sport with the ever-restless minds of men,

Descend not from the gods . Each busy brai nCreates its own . For when the cha ins of sleepHave bound the weary, and the lighten

’

d mindUnshackled plays , the actions of the lightBecome renew ’

d in darkness . Then the chief,

Who shakes the world with war , who joys aloneIn bla z ing c ities , and in wasted plains ,O

’

erthrown batta lions sees , and dying kings ,And fields o

’

e rflow’

d with blood . The lawyer dreamsOf causes , of tribunals , judges , fees .

The trembling miser hides his ill- g a in’

d gold ,And oft with joy a buried treasure finds .

The eager hunter with his clam’

rous dogsMakes rocks and wood s resound . The sa ilor b rings

P INDAR ON THE ECLIPSE OF THE SUN 55

His vessel sa fe to port, or sees it whe lm’d

B ene a th the foaming waves . The anxious ma idW rites to her lover , or beholds him near .

The dog in dreams pursues the tim’

rous ha re.The wretch, whom Fortune

’

s iron hand has scourg’

d ,

Finds in his slumbers a ll his woes reviv’

d .

PINDAR ON THE ECLIPSE OF THE SUN

[Published in 1806]’

AKTZs d eMov WONG /(or e , [max— Pindar [Carmen in Def.Solis , 1. r. ]

ALL -ENLIGHT’

NING , all-beholding ,All- transcending star of d ayWhy, thy sa cred orb enfolding ,Why does darkness veil thy ray

On thy life- d ifiu sing splendourThese portentous shades tha t rise ,

Va in the strength of mortals render ,

Vain the labours of the wise .

La te thy wheels , through ether burning,B oll

’

d in unexampled lightMorta ls mourn thy change , returningIn the sable garb of night .

Hear, oh Phoebus l we implore thee ,By Olympian Jove divine

Phoebus l Thebans kneel before thee ,Still on Thebes propitious shine .

On thy d ark en’

d course a ttending ,Dost thou signs of sorrow bring ?

Shall the summer rains descending ,Blast the promise of the spring

TO A YOUNG LADY, NETTING

Or sha ll War , in evil sea son ,

Spread unbounded ruin roundOr the baleful hand of TreasonOu r domestic joys confound

By the bursting torrent’s power,Sha ll our rip

’

ning fields be lost ?Sha ll the a ir with snow- storms lower ,Or the soil be bound in frost

Or shall ocean’s waves stupendous ,Unresisted , unconfln

’

d ,

Once aga in , with roar tremendous ,

Hurl destruction on mankind

TO A YOUNG LADY , NETTING

[Published in 1 806]

WHILE those bewitching hands combine,With matchless gra ce , the silken line ,They a lso weave, with gentle art,

Those stronger nets that bind the heart.

But soon a ll e arthly things decayTha t net in time must wear awayE

’

en Beauty’s silken meshes g ayNo lasting hold can take

But Beauty,V irtue , Sense , combin

’d,

(And a ll these charms in thee are join’

d )Can throw that net upon the mind

,

No human heart can e’

er unbind ,N0 human pow

’

r can break.

https://www.forgottenbooks.com/join

5s SLENDER’

S LOVE-ELEGY

And den I shet up for a broker mashe lf,

And Fortune hash shmil’d on ma la b orshI’ve minded de ma in- cha nshe , and shcrap

’

d up de pelAnd ru in

’

d von hal f of ma ne ighb ou rsh.

I f any von cash on goot b ond sh vou ld obta in ,

V ery shoon ready for him de loan ishAnd abou t shent per shent ish de int’resht I ga in ,

And d at vay I finger de monish .

To part vit ma monish I alvaysh vash lothFor ma table no d a intiesh I dish up

I dine on two e g g sh, and I shup on de broth ,

But I feasht vonsh a veck lik e a bishopEv’ry Shaturd ay night, on a grishkin of parkI regale bote masheli and ma crone ish

And I play on de grishkin a goot knife and fork ,

Dough d at runsh avay vit de monish

To de pre’

sheptsh ma fader inshtill’d in ma mindI have ever been conshtant and shte a d y

To lea rning or pleasure I ne’er vash inclin’

d ,

For neider vou ld bring in de ready.

And into ma pock etsh de monish to bringMa perpetua l shtu d y alone ish,

For de monish indeed ish a very goot ting,Oh, a very goot ting ish de monish

SLENDER’

S LOVE -ELEGY

[Published in 1 806]

COME , Polyhymnia , heav’

nly ma id 1Oh deign an humble bard to aid ,

Whose heart in tenfold cha ins is la id ,

In Cupid’s cage

SLENDER’

S LOVE-ELEGY

To Anna’

s name I strike the stringThence all my pa ins and pleasures springYes , I aspire thy praise to sing,

Oh sweet Anne Page I

The lustre of thy soft blue eyes ,Thy lip tha t with the cora l vies ,

Might b id love’s flames the breast surpriseOf stoic sage

And cold indeed his heart must be,Who could thy matchless fea tures se e ,

And not at once excla im with me ,

Oh sweet Anne Page

Wealth , pow’

r, and Splendour, I disownTo them no real j oys are knownThy unafiecte d charms a lone

My hea rt engageThou canst alone my bosom fire ,

Thou canst a lone my muse inspire ,To thee a lone I tune the lyre,

Oh sweet Anne Page

Against my passion’

s fond appealShou ld ’st thou thy gentle bosom steel,Wha t pow

’

r the pangs I then should feelCould e

’

er assuageTo wood s , to mounta ins would I flyThy dea r lov

’

d name uncea sing sigh ,

Till thousand echoes should replyOh sweet Anne Page

I cannot boa st the art sublime,Lik e some g rea t poets of the time ,To sing , in lofty- sounding rhyme ,

Of amorous rage

59

60 BENEA TH THE'

CYPRESS SHADE

But love has taught me to compla inLove ha s inspir

'd this humble strain

Then let me not still sigh in va in ,Oh swe et Anne Page I

A FRAGMENT

[Published in 1 806]

NAY , deem me not insensible , Cesario ,To temale charms ; nor think this heart of mineIs cas

'

d in adamant beca use , forsooth.I cannot ogle , and hyperbolise ,And whispe r tender nothings in the earOf ev'ry would-b e b ea uty. holding outThe bright b ut treach’

rous flame of fla ttery,

To watch the she -moths of a. drawing-roomSport round the be am. and burn the ir pretty wings,Ere conscious of their dang er : yet, believe me ,

I love a mai d whose untranscended formIs yet lees lovely than he r spotless mind .

Wi th modest fra nkness . una ffe cted genius ,Unchang

’d good-humour, beauty void oi art,

And polish’d wit tha t seeks not to offend .

And winning smiles that se ek not to be tray ,

She charms the sight , and fas cinates the sou l.Where dwells this ma tchless nymph ? a las , Cesario l’Tis but a sickly creature of my fancy ,Unpa rallel

’

d in na ture.

BENEATH THE CYPRESS SHADE

[Written a fter 1 806]

I Duo , benea th the cypress sha de ,

Wha t we ll might se em an elfin’

s graveAnd eve ry pledge in earth I laid .Tha t erst thy fab e aflection gave.

THE VIGILS OF FANCY

I pressed them down the sod beneathI placed one mossy stone above

And twined the rose’s fading wrea thAround the sepulchre of love.

Frail as thy love, the flowers were dea d ,Ere yet the evening sun wa s set

But years shall se e the cypress spread,Immutable as my regret .

THE V IGILS OF FANCY

[Written 1 806]

NO. I

THE wind is high, and morta ls sleep ,

And through the woods resounding deep,The wasting winds of Autumn sweep,

While waves remurmur hollowly.

Besid e this lake’s se q u e ster’

d shore,Where foam-crowned billows heave and roar,

And pines , that sheltered bards of yore ,Wave their primeval canopy.

At midnight hour I rove alone ,And think on days for ever flown ,

When not a tra ce of care was known.To break my soul’s serenity .

To me , when day’

s loud cares are past.And coldly blows th’

autumna l blast,And yellow leaves around are cast

In melancholy revelry.

61

62 THE VIGI LS OF FANCY

While Cynthia rolls through fields of blue ,’Tis sweet these fading groves to view,

With ev’ry rich and varied hueOf foliage smiling solemnly.

Ma tur’d by Time’s revolving wing ,These fading groves more beauties bringThan all the budding flow’

rs of Spring,

Or Summer’s glowing pageantry .

All ha il l ye breezes wild and drear ,

That pe el the death- song of the year ,

And with the wa ters thund ’

ring nearCombine in awful harmony

Methinks, as round your murmurs sa il,

I hear a spirit in the gale,That seems to whisper many a ta le

Of dark and ancient mystery.

Ye bards , tha t in the se sacred shades ,

These tufted woods and sloping glades ,

Awoke , to charm the sylvan ma ids ,Your soul- entrancing minstrelsy I

Say, do your spirits yet delightTo rove, benea th the starry night ,Along this wa ter’s margin bright ,

Or mid the woodland scenery.

And strike, to notes of tender fire ,

With viewless hands the shadowy lyre,Till a ll the wandering winds respire

A more than mortal symphony

Come, Fancy, come , romantic ma id 1No more in ra inbow vest array

’

d

But robed to suit the sacred sha deOf midnight’s deep sublimity

REMEMBER ME

By thee inspir’

d I seem to holdHigh converse with the good and bold ,Who fought and fell, in days of old ,

To g uard their country’

s liberty .

Roused from oblivion’s mouldering urn,

The chiefs of ancient times returnAga in the ba ttle seems to burn ,

And rings the sounding panoply I

And while the war- storm rages loud ,

In yonder darkly rolling cloud ,

Their forms departed minstrels shroud ,And wake the hymns of victory .

Far hence all ea rthly thoughts be hu rl’

d l

Thy regions , Fancy, shine unfurl’

d ,

Amid the visionary worldI lose the sa d real ity.

Le d by thy magic pow’

r sublime ,From shore to shore , from clirne to clime,Unche ck

’

d by distance or by time ,My steps sha ll wander rapidly.

Thy pow’

r can all the past restore ,Bid pres ent ills a fflict no more ,And tea ch the spirit to explore

The volume of futurity.

REMEMBER ME

[Written a fter 1808]

E tu , chi sa se ma iTe sovverra i d i me —Metastasio.

AND wha t are life’

s enchanting dreams ,

Tha t melt, like morning mi sts , awayAnd wha t are Faney’s golden beams ,Tha t glow with transitory d ay P

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66 ROMANCE

I my griefs unpitied pourTo the winds tha t round me roa r,On the billow-bea ten shoreOf the lonely ocean.

Where the sea ’

s extremest lineSeems with ether blended ,

Still I se e the whi te sails shineTo the breeze extended.

False one I still I mark thy sa il

Spread to catch the favouring gale.Soon shall storms thy bark assa il,

And thy crimes be ended I

By the mighty tempests tost,Dea th-flame s round thee burning,

On a bleak and desert coast,Whence is no returning

Thou o’

er all thy friends shall weep ,

Buried in th’ unpitying deepThou thy watch of woe sha lt keep ,

Va inly, deeply, mourning.

Una ttended shalt thou rove ,O

’

er the mounta in dreary,

Through the haunted, pathless grove,Through the desert eerie

Unassuaged thy tears thall flowNone shall sooth or share thy woe ,When thy blood runs cold and slow,

And thy limbs are weary 1

Far from haunts of human kind ,

V engeful heaven impelling,Thou thy dying b ed shall find ,

Where cold blasts are yelling.

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES 67

None shall hear thee , none shall save,In thy monumental cave,None shall weep , where tempests raveRound thy narrow dwelling 1

THE GENIUS OF THE THAMES

[Second edition , published in 1 8 12]

PART I

AAA IZTOE HOTAMQN EII I I‘AIAN ‘

I IIZI .—‘OM.

[Homer, Odyssey xi , 2

[on e questo ’

l te rren, ch’

i’ tocca i pria

[on e questo ’

l mio nido ,lve nudrito fu i sf dolcemente[on e questa 1a patria in ch’ io mi fid o[a d re benigna e pia ,

he c0pre l’uno e l’a ltro mio par ente —Petrarca l

1 PR(EMIUM

Sweet was the choral song ,When in Arcadian vales ,

Primeval shepherds twined the Aonian wrea th.

While in the dying g alss ,

Tha t sighed the shades among ,Rapt fancy heard responsive spiri ts brea the.Dryads and Genii wandered thenAmid the haunts of guileless men,

As yet unknown to strife .

Ethereal beings poured the floods ,Dwelt in the ever waving woods ,And fil led the varied world with intellectual life.

Ah whither are they flown ,

Those days of pea ce and loveSo sweetly sung by bards of elder timeWhen in the startling g rove

68 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

ANALYSIS OF THE FIRST PART

An Autumnal ni ht on the ba nks of the Thamu .

Eulogium of the hames . Characters of severalrivers of Grea t Brita in. Acknowledged su

'

orityof the Thame s . Address to the Genius of the mes .

V iew of some of the principal rivers of Eur Asia ,

A frica , and America . Pre - eminence of the hames .

General characte r of the river. The port of London.

The naval dominion of Brita in and extent of he r commerce and naviga tion . Tradition tha t an immenseforest occupied the site of the metropolis . F. odeof a Druid, suppose d to have taken refuge in tha t orest.a fter the expuls ion of Mona .

The battle- bla st was blown.

And misery came , and cruelty and crime ,Far from the desola ted hills .

Polluted mead s . and blood - sta ined rills .

Their g uardian g enii flewAnd through the woodlands . waste and wild ,

Where erst perennial summer smiled ,

Infuriate passions prowle d , and wintry whirlwinds

Yet where

influence nighWhen the far torrent’s roarFloats through the twilight vale ,And , echoing low , the fores t-de

pths reply.

Nor let the throng his dreams espiseWho to the rura l deities

Since human grandeur’s prou dest schemeI s b ut a fa b ric of a dream,

A meteor-kindled pile , tha t, while we gaze , expires.

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

I

THE moonlight rests , with solemn smile .On sylvan shore and willowy isleWhile Thames benea th the imaged beam,

Rolls on his deep and silent stream .

The wasting wind of autumn sighsThe oak’s d iscoloured foliage fliesThe grove , in deeper sha dow cast,Waves darkly in the eddying blast.A ll ha il, ye breezes loud and drear,Tha t peal the dea th- song of the year 1Your rustling pinions wa ft aroundA voice that brea thes no mortal sound ,And in mysterious accents singsThe flight of time the cha nge of things.The sea sons pas s ln swi ft careerStorms close , and zephyrs wake, the yearThe streams roll on, nor e

’

er returnTo fill aga in their parent urnBut bounteous na ture, kindly-wise,Their everlasting flow supplies .

Like planets round the central sun,

The rapid wheels of being run,

By laws , from earliest time pursued ,Still changed , still wasted , still renewed.

Reflected in the present scene,Return the forms that once have beenThe present’s varying tints displayThe colours of the future d ay.

II

Ye bards , tha t , in these secret shades ,

These tufted woods and sloping glades ,Awoke, to charm the sylvan ma ids ,Your soul- entrancing minstrelsy I

Say, do your spirits yet delightTo rove, benea th the starry night,

70 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

Along this wa ter’s margin bright,Or mid the woodland scenery

And strike, to notes of tender fire ,

With viewless hands the shadowy lyre ,Till all the wandering winds respireA wildly- awful symphony

Hark from beneath the aged spray ,

Where hangs my humbler lyre on high ,

Soft music fills the woodlands grey,

And notes aeria l warble byWhat flying touch , with elfin Spell ,Bids its responsive numbers swellWhence is the deep iEolian stra in,Tha t on the wind its changes fling s

Returns some ancient bard aga in ,

To wake to life the slumbering stringsOr brea thes the spirit of the sceneThe lightly- trembling chords between,Diflu sing his benignant powerOn twilight’s consecrated hour

Even now, methinks, in solemn gu ise .By yonder willowy islet gray ,

I se e thee sedge- crowned Genius rise ,And pomt the glories of thy way.

Ta ll reeds around thy temples play 1

1 Huic deus ipse loci fluvio Tiberinus amoeno

Popu le as inter senior se ad tollere frond is

Visus cum tenuis glauco ve le b at amictuCarba sus , et crinis umbrosa te g eb at arundo.

V irgil [E ne id viii , 3 1

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES 7 1

Thy ha ir the liquid crystal gemsTo thee I pour the votive lay,

Oh Genius of the silver Thames 1

The tutelary spirits , that formerly animated the scenesof na tu re, still continue to adorn the visions of poetrythou gh they are now felt only as the creatures ofima g ina tion, and no longer possess tha t influence of rea lexistence , whi ch must have imparted many enviablesensa tions to the mind of the ancient polytheist.Of a ll these fabulous beings , the Genii and Nymphs

of rivers and founta ins received the largest portion ofhuman adora tion. In them an enthusias tic fancyrea dily discerned the agency of powerful and benevolent spirits , d iflu sing wea lth and fertility over thecountries they adorned . Rivers a re worshippedsaysMaximus Tyriu s (Dissertatio VI I I . El 3 45o dydxua r awow-soy) on account of their utility , as the Nile bythe Egyptians ; or of their beauty , a s the Peneus bythe Thessa lians ; or of their magnitude , a s the Danub eby the Scythians ; or of mythologica l traditions , a s theA chelous by the ZEtolians ; or of pa rticular laws , as theEurotas by the Sparta ns , or of religious institutions ,as the Ilisus by the A thenians .

’

These local divinities are the soul of classica l landscape and their a lta rs , by the side of every founta in ,

and in the shade of every grove , are its most interestingand characteristic fea ture. From innumerable passages tha t might be cited on this subject , it will b e

alfi c ient to ca ll to mind that beautiful description ofomer”Am-

ear éyyt): Ge a r , Ka i érrl sprivnv d¢lxovroTum-

hr , xaAMpoov, Od er vbpeuovro wokcr a i ,Ti n 7 01110

"”I daxos, Ka i a vros, fiatHohvx‘rwp

’

Ap.¢l 8’

dp’

a l'yelpwv uddrorpetpéwv 77? (”WasII dw -

oo'

e xvxhor epe‘s Kara as lfivp v peer iiBwp

Til/60451061: 7 4.57 a flames 6égbmrepSe r é‘rvx‘ro

N14140d 001. min e s émpég'

eaxov bah-

a l..

[Homer , Odyssey xvu , 205- 1

73 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

V

The shepherd-youth , on Yarrow bra es.Of Yarrow stream has sung the pra ise,To love and bea uty dea r

And long shall Yarrow roll in fame,Charm with the ma gic of a name .And claim the tender tear.

Who has not wept, in pastoral lay.

To hear the ma iden’s song of woe ,

The ma id who neverAnd tell the winds

Till on his brea st she su nk to sleep,

Beneath the lonely waves of Yarrow.

VI

The minstrel oft , at evening- fall ,Has leaned on Roxb urgh

’

s m ined wall,Where , on the wreck of grandeur pa st ,The wild wood braves the sweepingAnd while , benea th the emboweringSwelled , lou d l

and deep. his notesHas cal led the spiri ts d the glade,To hear the voice of Teviot’s fem

While artle ss love and spotless trutDelight the waking dreams of youth ;

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74 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

O’er valleys of perennia l spring.And wastes of everla sting frost

O‘er deserts whe re the Siroo raves

And heaves the sand in fiery wavesO

’

er caverns of mysterious gloomO

’

er lak es , where peace ful islets bloom ,

Like emerald spots , serenely-bri ght.Amid a sapphire field of light ;O

’

er mounta in- summits , thunder-riven ,

That rear eternal snows to heavenO

'

e r rocks , in wild confusion hurled .And woods , coeval with the world .

It

Her eye sha ll thence the course explOf every river wandering wid e ,

From tardy Lena ’

s froz en shoreTo vast La Pla ta '

s sea - like tide.Where Oby’s barri er-billows freeze.And Dwina

’

s waves in snow-cha ins rest :Where the rou gh blast from Arc tic sea sCongea ls on Volga '

s ice -cold breastWher e Rhine impels his confluent spring

s

Tumultu ous down the Rha tia n ste epWhere Danube's world of waters bringsIts tribute to the Euxine deep

Where Seine , benea th Lutetian towers ,

Leads humbly his polluted stream .

Re calling still the blood -red hoursOf frantic freedom’

8 transient dream :

Where crowns swee t Loire his fertile soil :Where Rhone ’

s impetu ous eddies boil :

l And Volg a , on whose face the north w ind frt—Bea umont and Fletcher.

2Rhenus , Raeticarum Alpium inacce sso ac pra c

vertic e ortu s—Tac itus (Germanic , I] .

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES 75

Where Garonne ’s pastoral waves advance,Responsive to the song and dance ,When the full vintage calls from toilThe youths and ma ids of southern FranceWhere horned Po’

s once- raging floodNow moves with slackened force along 1,By hermit- isle and magic wood ,The theme of old chivalric song

Where yellow Tib et ’s turbid tideIn mystic murmurings seems to brea the

Of ancient Rome’s M perial pride ,Tha t passed away , as blasts divideNovember’s vapoury wrea thWhere proud Ta j o

’

s golden riverRolls through fruitful rea lms a far

Where Romantic Gua d alqu iver ,

Wakes the thought of Moorish warWhere Peneus smoothly-flowing

2,

Or Meander s winding- shore ,

Et g emina auratus taurino cornua voltuEridanus : buo non alius per ping u ia cultaIn mar e purpureum violentior efllu it anmis .

V irgil [Georg i ,cs iv , 3 7 1

Impe tuosissimum amnem olim Padum fuisse, ex alu sloc is manifestum est ,

quamquam nunc e ju s na turadiversa esse narratur—Heyne.

3 Down whose blood empurpled wa terMightiest chiefs , in dea th- cold sleep ,

V ictims stern of mutua l slaughter ,

Rolled towards the A tlantic deepWhere soft Peneus , etc.

The propriety of this epithet may be questioned .

The va le of Tempe’

, says Dr Gillies ,‘is adorned by

the hand of nature with every object that can gra tifythe senses or delight the fancy. The gently-flowingPeneu s intersects the middle of the pla in. Its waters

76 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

Charm the pensive wand a er, glowingWith the love of Grecian lore

Dashes far the sparkling sprayIn the eternal sound reca llingLost Arcadia

’

3 heaven- taught layFollowing dark, in strong commotionThrough the night of central caves .

Deep benea th the unmingling oceanArethusa ’

s flying waves

are increased by perennia l cascades from the

gr een

mounta ins . and thus rendered of sufficient deptvessels of considera b le burthen. The rocks are

where planted with Vina and olives ; the

of the river , and even the river itself , are overshadedwith lot forest tre es , which defend those who sail

upon it orn the sun s meri di an ardour '

. He addsin a note :

‘I know not why Ovid says . Peneus ab imospumosis volvitur mid is [Malena i.hom the description in the t is taken.

says . tha t the Peneus flows Alum ckalou. smoo a s oil .

‘

Livy’s dw cription, which seems to have es caped

Dr G .. is singularly contradic tory : Simt enim Tempe .saltus , etiam si nonyhello fiat, infesta s , trans it“ d iflicd rsnam pra ter angustias pe r qu iuque miIlia . ua exigumimam onusto ite r est. rapes utri us ita scissa stea l .at despici viz s ine vertigine m simul ocu lommanimi que oss it. Ten et at sonitu s ct altitu d o permed iamv flusntis Pene i am is . [L1vy.Hist xliv,6. ]The sonitus coinei d es with the d eseri on of Ovid .the

altitudo with tha t of E lian . It is d cult to reconcilethe terms with ea ch other : since altrss ima q uflumina minim sono la b u ntur. We may supposefli ntthe Peneus

'

is a torrent in the upper part of the vale. andga ins a smoother course as it proceeds.

m 63 M u rd e r

NlpSer inrorpoxdu , ( 06M ac vamp.—Moschus .

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THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

Where proud Potomac'

s ca taracts gleam,

Or vast Saint Lawrence darkly roarsWhere Amm o her pomp unfoldsBeneath the eq uinoctia l ray,

And through her drear sa vannahs holdsHer long immeasurable way

Where’er in youthful strength they flow ,

Or seek old oce an'

s wide emb rac e ,Her eagle -glance the muse shall throw ,

And all the ir prid e and power retrace :

Yet. wheresoe’

er , from copious urn,

Their bursting torrents flash and shine.Her eye shall not a stre am discernTo vie , oh sacred Thames l with thine.

Along thy course no pine -clad steep.

No alpine summim, proudly towerNo woods , impenetrably deep ,

O’

er thy pure mirror darkly lowerThe orange -grove, the myrtle-bower.

The vine , in rich luxuria nce spreadThe charms I talian mea dows showe r

The sweets Arabian valleys shedThe roar ing ca tara ct, wild and whiteThe lotas~fiower , oi azure lightThe fields , where ceaseless summer smilesThe bloom . tha t decks the B g ean islesThe hills. tha t tou ch the empyrea l pla in .

Olympia n Jove’s sublime domainTo other streams all these res ig nStill name , oh Thames shall vie with thine.

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES 79

For wha t ava ils the myrtle-bower,Where beauty rests at noon- tide hourThe orange groves , whose blooms exhaleRich perfume on the ambient galeAnd a ll the charms in bright array ,

Which happier climes than thine displayAh I wha t ava ils , that heaven ha s rolledA silver stream 0

’

er sands of gold ,

And decked the pla in , and reared the grave ,Fit dwelling for primeval loveIf man defile the beauteous scene ,And sta in with blood the smiling greenI f man’s worst passions there arise,To counteract the favouring skiesIf rapine there, and murder reign,And human tigers prowl for ga in ,

And tyrants foul, and trembling slaves ,

Pollute their shores, and curse their waves

X I I I

Far other charms than these possess ,Oh Thames thy verdant margin blessWhere peace , with freedom, hand- in- hand ,

Walks forth along the sparkling strand ,And cheerful toil, and glowing health,Procla im a pa triot na tion’s wealth.

The blood- stained scourge no tyrants wieldNo groaning slaves invert the fieldBut willing labour’s careful tra inCrowns all thy banks with waving gra in ,

With beauty decks thy sylvan shades ,

With livelier green invests thy glades ,And grace , and bloom , and plenty, poursOn thy sweet meads and willowy shores .

80 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

The pla in , where herds unnumbered rave ,

The la ure lled pa th. the be echen grove ,The lonely oak’s expansive pride ,The spire , through distant trees descried ,

The cat. with woodbine wrea thed around,The field , with waving corn embrowned ,The fall, tha t turns the frequent hill ,The sea t. tha t crowns the woodland hill,The sculptured arch, the regal dome.The nab er

’

s willow-mantled home ,The cla ssic temple, flower- entwined ,

In quick succession charm the mind ,

Till , where thy widening current glidesTo mingle with the turbid tides ,

Thy spa cious breast displays unfurledThe ens igns of the assembled world .

Throned in Augu sta ’s ample port ,

Imperia l commerce holds her court,And Brita in ’

s power sub limesTo her the brea th of every breezeConveys the we al th of subject seas ,

And tributary climes.

Adventurous courage guides the helmFrom every pa rt of every realm :

Through gala that rage, and wavw tha t wheUnnumbered ves se ls ride

Till a ll their va rious ens ig ns fly,Be nea th Britannia '

s milder sky,

Where roves . oh Thames 1 the patriot’s eye

O'

er thy refulgent tide .The treasures of the earth are thineFor thee Golcond ian diamond s shine

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82 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

Along the stream’

s wild marg in spreadA lofty forsa t’ s ma z es dreadNone dared , wi th step profane, impress

Where disma l trees , of giant- size13 a their tortuous boughs on high,Nor ha iled the cheerful morn’s uprise ,

Nor glowe d benea th the evening sky.

The dire religion of the sceneThe rustic ’s trembling mind alarmed

For oft , the parting boughs be tween,"

Twa s sa id , a dreadful form was seen,

Of horrid eye , and threa tening mien ,

With lightning-brand and thunder armed.Not there , in sunshine - chequered shadeThe sylvan nymphs and genii strayedBut horror reigned , and da rkness drea r ,

And silence , and mysterious fear :And superstitious rites were done ,Those haunted glens and dells among,

Tha t never felt the genial sun.

Nor heard the wild bird’s verna l song :

To gods ma lign the incense -

pyreWas kindled with unearthly fire .And human blood had oft b edewedThe ir ghastly a lta rs , dark and rude.There feebly fe ll, at noontide bright,A d im, discoloured , dismal light ,Such as a lamp’s pale glimmerings she dAmid the mansions of the dead.

The existe nce of this forest is a ttes ted byste

pihen. Some vestiges of it remained in the

of enry the Second .

a Several lines in this descri tionVirg il. Lucan , and Tasso. ac id ,

re lic , iii . 3 3 9 . Gems . lib . xiii , pr .

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES s ;

The Druid’s self who dared to leadThe rites barbari c god s decreed ,Benea th the gloom hal f- trembling stood

A s if he almost fea red to mark,In all hi s awful terrors dark ,

The mighty monarch of the wood .

XVIII

The Roman came the bla st of warRe - echoed wide o’

er hill and dellBenea th the storm , that blaz ed a far,The noblest chiefs of Albion fell.

The Druids shunned its rage awhileIn sylvan Mona ’

s haunted isle,Till on their graves of ancient oakThe hostile fires of ruin brok e,And circles rude of shapeless stone,With lichens gray and moss o

’

ergrown,

A lone rema ined to point the scene ,Where erst And raste ’s rites ha d been.

When to the dust their pride was drivenWhen waste and bare their haunts appeare d

No more the oracles of heaven,By gods beloved , by men revered ,

No refuge left but death or flight ,They rushed , unbidden , to the tomb,

Or veiled their heads in caves of night,And forests of congenial gloom .

XIX

There stalked in murky darkness wide,Revenge, despair , and outraged prideFunereal songs , and ghastly cries ,Rose to their dire divinitie s .

Oft, in their feverish dreams , aga inTheir graves and temples graced the pla in

84 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

And stern Andraste ’

s fiery form 1

Called from its caves the slumbering storm,

And whelmed , with thunder- rolling hand ,

The flying Roman’s impious band .

It chanced , amid that forest’

s shade ,That frowned where now Augusta towers ,

A Roman youth bewildered strayed ,While swiftly fell the evening hours .

Around his glance inquiring ranNo trace wa s there of living man

Forms indistinct before him flewThe darkening horror darker grewTill night , in death- like stillness felt,Around those d rearv ma zes dwelt .

1 Amongst our Britons says Mr Baxter , a s quotedby Mr Davies , Mythology and Rite s of the B ritish

Dru id s , p . 617 , even of the present d ay, A nd ras is a

popular name of thegoddess M a len , or the la dy, whom

the vulgar ca ll Y Va l that is , Fauna Fatua , and M am

y Drwg , the Devil’

s Dam, or Y Wrach, the old hag .

Some regarded her as a flying s ectre . Thatname corresponded not only with e cate , B ellona , and

Enyo, but a lso with B ona Dea , the great mother of the

god s , and the terrestria l Venu s . In the fables ofthe populace , she is styled Y Va d Dd u Hyll, tha t isB ona Fu rva Eflera , and on the other hand , Y Vad Velen,

that is , He lena , or B ona Flava Agreeably to an

ancient rite, the old Britons cruelly offered humansacrifices to this And rasta whence a s Dion rela tes ,

our amazon ,Vond ic ea (Boadicea ), invoked her with

mprecations , previous to her engagement with theRomans . The memory of this goddess , or fury, te

ma ins to the present d ay for men in a passion growlat each other , M a e rhyw A nd ra s arnochwi SomeA nd rasta possesses you

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THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

And , central in the sa cred round ,

And raste’

s moss - grown altar frowned .

XXIII

The mystic flame of lurid blueThere shed a dubious , mournful light,

And half-revea led to human viewThe secret ma jesty of night .

An anci ent man, in dark a ttire,Stood by the solitary fir e :

The varying flame his farm displayedHalf- tinged wi th light , ha lf -veiled in shade .His grey ha ir , gemmed with midnight dew ,

Streamed down his robe s of sable hue :His cheeks were sunk : his beard wa s whiteBut his large eyes were fiery-bright.And seemed through flitting shades to range ,With wild expression , stern and strang e.There , where no wind was heard to sigh,

Nor wandering streamlet murmured b y,

While every voice of na ture slept ,The harp’s symphonious strings he swept :Such thrilling tone s might sca rcely beThe touch of mortal minstrelsyNow rolling lou d , and deep , and dread ,

As if the sound would wake the dead ,

Now soft, as if , with tend er close ,To b id the parte d sou l repos e .

XXIV

The Roman youth wi th wonder gazedOn those dark eym to heaven upra ised ,

Where strugg ling passions wildly shone ,With fea rful lu stre onot their own.

Awhile irresolute he stoodAt length he left the shelte ring wood ,

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES 87

And moved towards the centra l flameBut, ere his lips the speech could frame ,

And who art thou P the Druid cried ,

While flashed his burning eye-balls wideWhose steps unhallowed boldly pressThis sacred grove’s profound recessHa l by my injured country

’

s doom 1

I know the ha ted a rms of Rome.Through thi s dark forest’s pathless wayAnd raste

’

s self thy steps ha s le d ,

To perish on he r alta rs grey,

A gra teful ofiering to the dea d.

0h goddess stern one victim moreTo thee his vital blood sha ll pour ,

And shades of heroes , hovering nigh ,

Shall j oy to se e a Roman d i e 1With that dread plant , that none may name,

I feed the insa tiate fire of fateRoman l with this tremendous flameThy hea d to hell I consecra te 1

And , sna tching swift a blaz ing brand ,

He da shed it in the Roman’s face ,And seized him with a giant’s hand ,

And dragged him to the altar’s base .Though worn by time and adverse fate,Yet streng th unna turally grea tHe gathered then from deadly ha te

And superstitious zealA dire religion’s stern behestAlone his frenz ied soul possessedAlready o

’

er his victim ’

s brea stHung the descending steel.

1 Te . Appi , uumq u e caput sanguine hoc consecro.

Livius , iii , 48 .

A gli inferna li d e iCon questo sangue il capo.tuo consacro

—Alfieri .

88 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

The scene , the form, the ac t, combined ,

A moment on the Roman's mindAn enervating influence pouredBut to himse lf aga in restored ,

Upspringing lig ht, b e grasped his foe.And checked the medita ted blow.

And on the Dru id's b reast repelledThe steel his own wild fury held .

The vital stream flowed fas t away ,

And stained And raste 's altars grey .

More ghastly pale his fea tures direGleamed in tha t blue fu nereal fire :The dea th-mists from his brow distilledBut still his eyes strange lustre filled.

Tha t seemed to pierc e the se cret springsOf unima ginable things .

No longer. with malignant glare ,Revenge unsated glistened there,And deadly rage, and stem d espa ir :

All trace of evil passions fled ,

He se emed to commune wi th the dead ,

And draw from them , without alloy ,

The raptures of prophe tic joy.

A sudden breeze his temples fanned :

His harp , untouched by human hand ,

Sent forth a sound , a thrilling sound ,

Tha t rang through all the mys tic roundThe incense -flame rose b road and bright ,In one wide stream of me te or- light.

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go THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

XXX!

Hark the stream of ages ravesGifted eyes its course behold

Down its all- absorbing wavesMightiest chiefs and kings are rolled .

Every work of human pride ,Sapped by tha t eternal tide ,Shall the raging current sweepTow

’

rd s oblivion’s boundless deep.

XXXII

Confident in wide control,Rome beholds tha t torrent flow,

Heedless how the wa ters roll,Wasting , mining , as they go.

Tha t sure torrent saps at lengthWa lls of adamantine streng thDown its eddies wild shall passDomes of marble , towers of brass .

XXXIII

A s the sa ilor’s fragile bark ,

Beaten by the adverse breeze ,Sinks a far , and leaves no markOf its passage o’

er the seasSo shall Rome’s colossa l swayIn the lapse of time decay ,

Leaving of her ancient fameBut the memory of a name .

X XX IV

Va inly raged the storms of GaulRound dread Jove’s Tarpeian dome

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES 9 !

Se e in flames the fabric fall 1

’

Tis the funeral pyre of RomeRed -armed vengeance rushes forthIn the whirlwinds of the northFrom her hand the sceptre rivenTo transalpine realms is given .

XXXV

Darkness veils the stream of time ,A s the wreck of Rome dissolve

Years of anarchy and crimeIn barbaric night revolve.

From ‘the rage of feudal strifePea ce and freedom spring to life ,Where the morning sunbeams smileOn the se a -god’s favourite isle.

Ha il I a ll ha il 1 my na tive land 1Long thy course of glory keep

Long thy sovereign sa ils expandO

’

er the subjuga ted deep lWhen of Rome’s unbounded reignDust and shade a lone rema in ,

Thou thy head divine shalt ra ise ,Through interminable days.

‘Dea th-mists hover voices riseI obey the summons dread

On the stone my life-blood dyesSinks to rest my wea ry head .

1 Se d nihil ze qu e , quam incendium Capitolu , u t finemimperio adesse cre d erent, impulerat. Capta in olim a

Ga lli s a rbam sad , integm j ovis sed e , mansisse im

pe rium . Fata li nunc igne , signum ca lestis ire d atum,

at possessionem rerum humanarum transa lpinis g entibu s

portend i , superstitione vana Druida cane b ant—Tacitus(Hi stories , IV ,

93 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

Far from scenes of night and woe ,

To e ternal groves I go,Where for me my brethren wa itBy And raste 's pala ce-ga te

PART I I

gu i d qu id sol oriens , qu id uiuid et occid ensovit cmru le is oceanus

'

s

dq u id ve l veniens ve l fun

ns lava t,tas Peg aseo conripiet

Seneca [Tre ad en 3 8 3

ANALYSIS OF THE SECOND PART

Return to the banks of the Thames . The influenceof spring on the scen of the river . The tranquilbeauty of the valleys o the Thames contrasted Wi ththe sublimit

yof more Open and elevated

Allusion to t e war on the Danube . Ancient wars onthe Thames . Its esent universal pea ce.the course of the es. Its source ne ar KembleMea d ow. Com tive reflections on time.Lechlade. te. Gods tow nunnery : Rosamond.

Oxford. Apostrophe to science . Nuneham Courtnay : Mason . The Vale of Marlow. Hedsor. Cli ef

d en. Windsor. Cooper’

s Hill. Runnymea d . TwitRichmond : Thomson. Chelsea and

The Tower. Tilbury Fort. Ha dleighCastle. The Nore . General allusion to the illustrious characters tha t have adorned the b anks of theThames . A summer evening on the river at Richmond. Comparative adversion to the ancient sta teof the Euphra tes and Araxes , a t Babylon and Perse

polis . Present desola tion of those scenes . Reflec tionson the fall of na tions . Conclusion.

I

08 Genius of tha t sa cred urn,

Adored by all the Naiad tra in !

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94 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

Where wandering fancy’

s lonely childMight me et the spirit oi the skies :

Not he re , from misty summits hoar ,

Where sha ttered firs are rooted strong ,

With headlong force and thundering roarThe bursting torrent foams along

Sublime the charms suc h scenes conta inFor na ture on her mounta in reignDelig hts the treasures to dispenseOf all her wild ma gnifice nceBut thou art sweet , my na tive stream !

Thy waves in liquid lustre play ,

And glitte r in the morm’

ng beam,

And chime to rest the clos ing dayWhile the vast mounta in’s dizzy steepThe whirlwind’s eddying rag e assa ils.

The gentle st zephyrs softly swe epThe verdure of thy sheltered vales

While o’

er the wild and whitening seas

The unbridled north triumphant roars,Thy stream scarce ripples in the breeze,Tha t bends the willow on thy shores

And thus , while war o’

e r Europe flingsDestruction from his crimson wings ,

While Danube’s wasted b anks aroundThe steps of mingling foes resound.Thy pure waves wash a stainles s soil.To crown a pa tri ot people

’

s toil.

Yet on these shores . in elder days.Arose the ba ttle’s maddening blazeEven here. where now so softly swellsThe mus ic of the villag e bells ,The painted savage rolled to warThe tm ors oi the scythed car.

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES 95

And wide around , with fire and sword,The devasta ting Roman pouredHere shouted o’er the ba ttle-plainThe Pict , the Saxon , and the DaneAnd many a long succeeding yearSaw the fierce Norman’s proud career,The deadly hate of feudal foes ,The sta in that dyed the pallid rose,And a ll the sanguinary spoilOf foreign and intestine broil.

V

But now, through banks from strife remote ,Thy crysta l wa ters wind a long ,

Responsive to the wild bird’s note ,Or lonely boa tman’s careless song.

Oh ne’er may thy sweet echoes swellAga in with war’s demonia c yell 10h ne’er aga in may civil strifeHere aim the steel at kindred life 1Ne’er may those deeds of might and crime,Tha t sta in the rolls of feudal time ,Aga in pollute these meads and groves ,Where science dwells , and beauty roves IAnd should some foreign tyrant’s bandDescend to waste the beauteous land ,Thy swelling current, eddying red ,

Shall roll away the impious dead.

Le t fancy lead , from Trew sb ury Mead 1 .

With hazel fringed , and copsewood deep,

1 The Thames rises in a field ca lled Trewsb ury Meadeat the villages of Tarlton and Kemble, in Gloucester

96 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

Where scarc ely seen. through brilliant green,

To where the wid eo expand ing NoreBeholds thee , with tumultu ous roar.

Conclude thy devious rac e.And rush, with Medway

’s confluent wave,

To se ek, whe re mightier billows rave .Thy g iant sire

’

s embrace.

Where Kemb le ’s wood-embosomed spireA dorns the solitary glade ,

And ancient trees . in green a ttire ',Diflu se a deep and plea sant sha de ,

Thy bounteou s u rn , light murmuring. fling s

The treasures of its infant springs ,

And fast, benea th its na tive hill,Impels the silver- sparkling rill ,

With fla g -flowers fringed and whispering ree ds.Along the many-coloured meads .

1 I am slightly indebted , in this stanza , to one ofAriosto

’

s most exquisite descriptions :

La fonts d iscorrea er mezzo nu prato.D

’

arb ori antiqui e i bell' ombre adorno .Che i viandanti col mormorio gratoA bere invita , e a fa r seco sog

‘

orno.

Un culto montice l d al manco toLe difende il calor d e l mezzo gi .orno

gui vi . come i begli occ hi torse .un cava lier la g ig iovane s accors e :

D'un cavalier , che all

’ ombra d ’

un boschetto.Nel marg in verd e , e b ianco , rosso, e gisllo,

Sed ea pensoso. tacito. e soletto.

Sopra quel chia ro e liquido cristallo.

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98 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

X

The present rolls in light awhileWe ha il its evanescent smile ,

Rejoicing as it fliesEphemera on the summer- stream,

Heedless of the descending beam,

And distant lowering skie s .

False joys , wi th fading flow erets crowned ,And h0pe , too late delusive found ,

And fancy’s meteor- ray,

And all the passions, light and va inTha t fill ambition’s fata l train ,

A ttend our downward way.

Some struggle on , by tempests drivenTo some a gentler course is givenAll down the self- same stream are rolledTheir d ay is passed—their ta le is told.

XI

Youth flies , as bloom forsakes the grove ,When icy winter blows

And trans ient are the smiles of love ,As dew- d rops on the rose .

Nor may we call those things our own 1,Which , ere the new-born d ay be flown ,

By chance , or fraud , or lawless might ,Or sterner death’s supreme award ,

Will change their momentary lord ,

And own another’s right.A s oceans now o

’

er quicksands roar,

Where fields and hamlets smiled of yore

1 tamquamSit proprium q u id q u am , puncto quod mob ilis hora ,

Nunc prece , nunc pretio, nunc vi , nunc sorte suprema ,

Permu tet dominos , et c e d at in altera jura—Horace , [Epistles ,

I I,ii

,17 1 - 4]

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES 99

A s now the purple heather blows ,Where once impervious forests roseSo perish from the burthened groundThe monuments of human toilWhere cities shone , where castles frowned ,The careless ploughman turns the soil.

How many a chief , whose kindling mindConvulsed this ea rthly scene,

Has sunk, forgotten by mankind ,

A s though he ne’er had been 1Even so the chiefs of modern days,On whom admiring na tions gaze,Shall sink, by common fate Oppressed

Their name, their place, remembered not :Not one grey stone to point the spot

Of' their eternal rest .

XIII

Flow proudly, Thames the emblem brightAnd witness of succeeding years 1

Flow on, in freedom’

s sacred light,Nor sta ined with blood , nor swelled with tears.

Sweet is thy course , and clear, and still,By Ewan’s old neglected millGreen shores thy narrow stream confine

,

Where blooms the modest eglantine ,And hawthorn-boughs o

’

ershad owing spreadTo canopy thy infant bed.

Now peaceful hamlets wandering through,

And fields in beauty ever new,

Where Lechlade sees thv current strongFirst wa ft the unla b our mg bark along ;Thy c0piou s waters hold their wayTow

’

rd s Ra d cote’

s arches , old and grey,

xoo THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

Where triumphed erst the rebel host 1,When hapless Richard

’

s hopes were lost,And Oxford sought, with humb led prid e,Existence from thy guardian tide.

The wild-flower waves . in lonely bloom, flOn God stow

’s desola ted wa ll :

Their thin shades flit through twilight gloom,

And murmured acc ents feebly fall.The aged hazel nurtures there 3

Its hollow fruit, so se eming fair,And lightly throws its humble shade ,Where Rosamond a ’

s firm is la id .

The rose of ea rth. the swee te st flowerTha t ever graced a monarch’s breast,

In vernal beautys loveliest hour.Benea th that sod was laid to rest.

In vain. the bower of love around,The De daléan pa th was woundAlas ! tha t jealous ha te should findThe clue for love alone des igned l

1 Robert de Vere , Earl of Oxford and Duke ofIreland , the favourite of Richard the Second . was

defea ted in the vicinity of Rad cote by the Ea rl ofDe rbfisin the year (

3 187, and escaped by

with horse across e3 A small chapel, and a wall, enclosing an ample

space , are all now remaining of Godstow Nunnery.

A hazel grows um the chapel, the fruit of which isalways appar ently perfect. b ut is invariably foundto b e hollow.

This nunn derives its chief interest from havingbe en the b -plac e of the bea utifu l Rosamond , who

after her dea th , to have bee n re gard ed as

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102 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

The illumined shrine ha s passed away :The sculptured stone in d ust is la id :

But when the mid night breezes playAmid the barren hazel’s shade,

The lone enthusiast. ling ering ne ar.The youth , whom slighted passion grieves.

Through fancy’s magic spell may hearA spirit in the whispering leaves

And dimly see , while mortals sleep,

Sad forms of cloistered ma idens move,The trans ient dreams of life to weep ,

The fading flow ers of you th and love !

XVI II

Now , rising o’

er the level pla in .

Mid academic groves enshrined ,The Gothic tower . the Grec ian fane ,

Ascend , in solemn state combined.Science . beneath those cla ssic spires ,

Illumes her watch-lamp’

s orient fires .

And pours its everlasting raysOn archives of primeva l days .

To her capacious vi ew unfurled ,

The me ntal and material world

on inquiry , to be the tomb of Rosamond , commandedher to b e taken up. and b am

’

e d without the chu rch, last theChristian relig ion shou ld grow into contempt. This brutalorder was instantly obeyed : ‘but the chaste sisters ’

,

says Spe ed ,

‘gathered her bones . and put them in a

perfumed b ag , enclosing them so in lead , and laid thema ain in the church , und er a fair larg e grave-stone ,a t whose ed ges a fillet of brass was inlaid , andther eon written her name and pra ise : these b ones werea t the suppression of the nunnery so found .

’

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES 103

Their secrets deep displayShe measures nature

’

s ample plan,To hold the light of truth to man.

And guide his erring way.

Oh sun- crowned science 1 child of heaven ITo wandering man by angels given I

Still, nymph divine on mortal sightDifluse thy intellectua l light,Till all the na tions own thy sway ,

And drink with joy the streams of d ay 1Yet lov

’

st thou , ma id I a lone to roveIn Cloister d im , or polished grove,Where academic domes are seenEmerg ing grey through foliage greenOh l hast thou not thy hermit seat ,Embosomed deep in mounta ins vast ,

Where some fa ir valley’s still retrea tRepels the north’s impetuous blast

The falling stream there murmurs byThe tufted pine waves broad and highAnd musing silence sits beneath ,

Where scarce a zephyr bends the heath ,

And hears the breezes , loud and strong,Resound the topmost boughs among.

There peace her vestal lamp displays,Undimmed by mad ambition’s bla ze ,And shuns , in the sequestered glen,The storms that shake the haunts of men,

Where mean intrigue , and sordid ga in ,

And frenz ied war’

s ensanguined reign,And narrow cares , and wrathful strife ,Dry up the sweetest springs of life.

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

0h 1 might my steps , that darkly roam,

A tta in at last thy mounta in home ,And rest, from earthly trammels free ,With pea ce , and liberty, and theeAround while faction’s tempests sweep,Like whirlwinds o

’

er the wintry deep ,

And , down the headlong vortex torn ,

The va in, misjudging crowd is borne ;’Twere sweet to mark, te

- echoing far,The rage of the eterna l war ,

That dimly heard, at distance swelling,Endears , but not distu rbs , thy dwelling.

But sweeter yet, oh trebly sweet IWere those blest paths of calm retreat

,

Might mutual love’s endearing smileThe lonely hours of life beguile ILove, whose celestial brea th exhalesFresh fragrance on the vernal galesWhose starry torch and kindling eyeA d d lustre to the summer skyWhose tender accents cheer the d ay,

When autumn’s wasting breezes swayWhose heavenly flame the bosom warms ,

When freezing winter wakes in storms

XXII

Not in the glittering halls of pride,Where spleen and sullen pomp reside ,Around though Paphian odours breathe ,And fashion twines her fading wreath.

Young fancy wakes her na tive grace ,Nor love elects his dwelling-place.

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(06 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

In woody Marlow’

s winding valeAnd fond regret for scenes so fa irWith backward gaze shall linger there ,Till rise romantic Hed sor’s hills ,

And Clie fd en’

s groves , and springs , and rills,Where hapless V illars , doomed to proveThe ills that wa it on lawless love ,In festa l mirth , and chora l song ,Impelled the summer-hours along ,Nor marked , where scowled expectant byDespa ir , and shame , and poverty.

xxv

The Norman king’s emba ttled towersLook proudly o

’

er the subj ect pla in ,

Where , deep in Windsor’

s rega l bowers ,The sylvan muses hold their reign.

From groves of oak , whose branches hoarHave heard primeva l tempests roa r ,

Beneath the moon’s pale ray they pa ssAlong the Shore’s unbending grass ,And songs cf gratulation ra ise

,

To speak a patriot monarch’s pra ise.

xxvr

Sweetly , on you poetic hill,Stra ins of unearthly music brea the ,

Where Denham’

s spirit , hovering still,Weaves his wild harp ’

s aeria l wrea th .

And sweetly , on the mea d below,

The fragrant ga les of summer blowWhile flowers sha ll spring , while Thames

flow ,

Tha t mead sha ll live in memory ,

Where valour , on the tented field ,

Triumphant ra ised his patriot shield ,The voice of truth to kings reveal ed ,And broke the cha ins of tyranny.

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES 107

XXVII

The stream expands the meadows flyThe sta tely swan sa ils proud ly byFull, clear , and bright , with devious flow,

The rapid wa ters murmuring go.

Now open Tw itnam’

s classic shores ,

Where yet the moral muse deploresHer Pope’s unrivalled lay

Unmoved by wea lth , unawed by state ,He held to scorn the little great ,

And taught life’s better way.

Though tasteless folly’s impious handHas wrecked the scenes his genius plannedThough low his fa iry grot is la id ,

And lost his Willow’

s pensive shadeYet sha ll the ever-murmuring stream ,

That lapt his soul in fancy’

s dream ,

Its vales with verdure cea se to crown ,

Ere fade one ray of his renown.

XXVIII

Fa ir groves , and villas glittering bright ,Arise on Richmond ’s beauteous heightWhere yet fond echo warbles o

’

er

The heaven- taught songs she learned ofFrom morta ls veiled , mid waving reeds ,The a iry lyre of Thomson sighs ,

And whispers to the hills and meadsIN YONDER GRAVE A DRUID LIES

The seasons there , in fixed return ,

Around their minstrel’s holy u rn

Perennial Chaplets twineOh I never shall their changes greet ,Immorta l bard l a song more sweet ,

A soul more pure than thine

3 08 THE GENIUS OF THE THAMES

Oh Thames ! in consc ious glory glideBy those fa ir pilw tha t crown thy tide .

Where , worn with toil. from tumult far,The veteran hero rests from war.

Here, marked by many a we ll- fought field,On high the sold ier hang s his shield ;The seaman there has furled his sa il ,Long rent by many an adverse ga le.Remembered perils . braved and past

The raging fight. the whelming blast ,The hidden rock, the stormy shore ,The mounta in-breaker’s deepening roar,Recalled by fancy

’

s spe ll divine ,Endear their evening

’s calm decline .

And teach their child ren , listening near,To emula te their s ires ’ ca ree r.

XXX

But swiftly urge the gliding bark ,

By yon stern walls and chambers dark ,

Where guilt and woe , in night concealed ,Unthou ght, unwitnessed . unrevea led .Through leng thened age s scowling stood ,

Mid shrieks of death. and tears of blood .

No ha rt may think , no tongu e declare ,The fea rful mysteries hidden thereJustic e averts her trembling eye.And mercy we eps , and hastens by

1.

Long has the tempe t’

s rage bee n spentOn yon unshak en ba ttlement.

1Fama d i loro mondo esse r non lassa :Misericordia e giustizia g li sdeg na :Non rag ioniam d i lor , ma gu ard s e paces—Dante .

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n o THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

And call aga in to life and lightThe forms long wrapped in central night.From abbeys g rey and castles old ,

Through mouldering porta ls backward rolled ,Glide d imly forth , with silent tread,The shades of the illustrious dead.

Still dear to them their na tive shore,The woods and fields they loved of yoreAnd still, by farthest rea lms revered ,Subsists the rock-built tower they rea redThough lightnings round its summit glow,

And foaming surges burst below.

XXXIV

Thames I have roamed , at evening hours ,Near beauteous Richmond’s courtly bowers ,When , mild and pale , the moonbeams fellOn hill and islet , grove and dell,And many a sk ifi, with fle e cy sa il

Expanded to the western gale ,Traced on thy brea st , serenely-bright ,The lengthening line of silver lightAnd many an oar , w ith mea sured dashAccordant to the boa tman’s song ,Bade thy pellucid surface flash ,

And whirl, in glittering rings , a long ;While from the broad and dripping bladeThe clear drops fell , in sparkling showers ,Bright as the crysta l gems , displayedIn Amphitrite

’

s cora l bowers .

There beauty wooed the breeze of night,Beneath the silken canopy,

And touched , with flying fingers light ,The thr illing chords of melod y.

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

XXXV

It seemed , that music’

s inmost soulWas brea thed upon the wandering a irs,

Charming to rest , with sweet control,All human passions , pa ins , and cares .

Enthusiast voices j oined the sound ,

And poured such soothing stra ins around ,Tha t well might ardent fancy deem ,

The sylphs ha d le d their viewless band ,To warble o’

er the lovely streamThe swee test songs of fa iryland .

Now , brea thing wild , with raptured swell,They floa ted o

’

er the silent tideNow , soft and low , the accents fell,And , seeming mystic tales to tell,In heavenly murmurs died .

XXXVI

Yet that sweet scene of pensive joyGave mournful recollections birth ,

And ca lled to fancy’

s w ild employThe certa in destinies of earth.

I seemed to hear , in wakening thought ,While those w ild minstrel accents ru ng ,

Whate ’e r historic truth ha d taught ,Or philosophic bards ha d sung.

Methought a voice , severe and strange ,Whispered of fa te, and time , and change,And b ade my wandering mind reca ll ,How nations rise , and fade , and fall.

xxxvn

Thus fa ir , of old , Euphrates rolled ,By Babylon’

s imperia l siteThe lute’s soft swell , with magic spell,Breathed rapture on the listening night :

I I I

1 12 THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

Love-whispering youths and ma idens fa irIn festa l pomp a ssembled there,Where to the stream’

s responsive moanThe desert gale now sighs alone.

XX XVIII

Still changeless , through the fertile pla in,Araxes , loud- resounding, flows ,

Where gorgeous despots fixed their reignAnd Chil-minar’s proud domes arose 1 .

High on his g em- embla zoned throneSa te kneeling Persia ’

s earthly godFa ir slaves and sa traps round him shone ,And nations trembled at his nod

The mighty voice of A sia ’

s fa teWent forth from every golden ga te.Now pensive steps the wrecks explore ,Tha t skirt the solitary shoreThe time-worn column mouldering falls,And tempests rock the roofless walls .

XXXIX

Perchance, when many a distant year,Urged by the hand of fate, has flown,

Where moonbeams rest on ruins drear ,

The musing sage may rove aloneAnd many an awful thought sublimeMay fill his soul, when memory shows ,

1 The pla in of Persepolis is wa tered by the greatriver Araxes or B end emir . The ancient palace of thekings of Persia , called by the inhabitants Chi l-minar ,

ti e . forty columns , is situated at the foot of the mountain : the walls of this stately building ar e still sta ndingon three sides ; and it has the mountai n on thee ast Universa l History.

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1 3 4 THE GENIUS OF THE THAMES

Is this the crown , the fina l meed ,

To man’

s sublimest toils dec reedMust a ll, from g lory

’

s radiant heig ht.Descend alike the pa ths of nightMust she , whose voice of power resound sOn utmost ocean's lonelies t bounds ,

In darkness meet the whelming doomThat crushed the sovereign strength of Rome,And o

’

er the proudest states of oldThe storms of desola tion rolled

XL“

Time, the foe of man's dominion,Whee ls around in cea seless flig ht,

Scattering from his hoary pinionShades of everlasting night.

Still. benea th his frown appalling ,Man and all his works decay

Still, before him , swi ftly- falling ,Kings and kingdoms pa ss away.

Cannot the ha nd of pa triot zeal.The heart tha t se eks the public wea l,

The comprehe nsive mind ,

Retard awhile the storms of fate ,Tha t , swift or slow , or soon or late ,Shall hurl to ruin every sta te ,

And leave no trace behind

Oh Britain ! oh my native land !To sci ence, art, and freedom dea r I

THE GENI US OF THE THAMES

Whose sa ils o’

er farthest sea s expand ,And brave the tempest’s dread car eerWhen comes that hour , as come it must,That sinks thy glory in the dust ,May no degenera te Briton live,Benea th a stranger’s cha in to toil ,

And to a haughty conqueror giveThe produce of thy sacred soil 1

Oh dwells there one , on all thy pla ins ,I f British blood distend his veins ,

Who would not burn thy fame to save ,Or perish in his country’s grave

XLV

Ah I sure, if skill and courage trueCan check destruction’s headlong way,

Still sha ll thy power its course pursue,Nor sink, but with the world

’

s decay.

Long as the clifls that girds thine isleThe bursting surf of ocean stems ,

Shall commerce, wealth, and plenty smileAlong the silver- eddying Thames 1

Still sha ll thine empire’s fabric stand ,

A dmired and feared from land to land ,

Through every circling a g e renewed ,Unchanged, Ninshak en, unsubduedAs rocks resist the wildest breeze,That sweeps thy tributary seas .

2 Har a /l ds 1reo éfiflboos, APFTOPAINHZ ,

1 15

[Homer , I liad , xxi , x3 o.]

1 16 STANZAS, WRI TTEN A T SEA

STANZAS, WRITTEN AT SEA 1

[Published in 1 8 1 2]

THOU white- rolling se a l from thy foam- crested billows,That restlessly fla sh in the silver moon-beam ,

In fancy I turn to the green-waving willows ,Tha t rise by the side of my dear native stream .

There softly in moonlight soft wa ters ar e playing ,Which light-breathing zephyrs symphoniously sweep

While here the loud wings of the north-wind are

swaying,And whirl the white spray of the wild- da shing deep .

Sweet scenes of my childhood ! with tender emotion ,

King memory, still wakeful, your semblance portrays :

And I sigh , a s I turn from the wide-bea ting oceanTo the paths where I roamed in my infantine days.

In fancy before me the pine-boughs are waving,

Beneath whose deep canopy musing I strayedIn crystalline wa ters their image is laving ,And the friends of my bosom repose in their shade.

Ye fa ir- spreading fields , which fertility blessesYe rivers , tha t murmur with musical chime l

Ye groves of dark pine, in w hose sacred recessesThe nymph of romance holds her vig ils sublime l

Ye heath-mantled hills ,in lone wildness ascending l

Ye va lleys , true mansions of pea ce and repose lEver green be your shades , natu re

’

s children defending,Where liberty sweetens what labour bestows.

1 In the North Sea on board a man-of-war in 1809.

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x18 STANZAS, WRI TTEN AT SEA

And his , swee te r yet. is the twilight of even,

When melts the soft ray from the far-flashing floods,And fancy descends from the westerly heaven ,

To talk with the spirit that sing s in the woods .

VI I I

In some hermit vale ha d kind destiny plac ed me ,

'Mid the silence of na ture all lone ly and drear ,

oh. ne’

er from its covert ambition ha d chased me ,

To j oin the vain crowd in its frenzied career IIn the haunts of the forest my fancy is dwelling,In the mystica l glade , by the lone river

’

s shore ,Though wandering afar wha e the nig ht-breeze

swelling,And waters unbou nded tumultuously roar.

IX

I ha il thee , dark ocea n, in beauty tremend ousI love the hoarse dash of thy far-sounding waves !

But he fe els most truly thy grandeur stupend ous ,

Who in solitude sits mid thy surf-bea ten cavw .

From thy clifls and thy caverns , ma ja tic and hoary,Be mine to look forth on thy boundless array

,

Alone to look forth on thy va st-rolling glory,And hear the deep lessons thy thunders convey .

X

ButhOpe softlywhispers , onmoon-beams descend ing :De spond not , oh mortal ! thy sorrows are vain .

The heart , which misfortune and absence are rea d ing ,

Love, fri endship , and home sha ll enrapture a gain .

Though the night-billows rave to the tempest’s commotion ,

In the mild brea th of morning their fury sha ll ceaseAnd the vessel , long tossed on the storm- troubled ocean,

Sha ll furl her torn sa ils in the harbour'

of peace .

INSCRIPTION FOR A MOUNTA IN-DELL 1 19

INSCRIPTION FOR A MOUNTA IN-DELL

[Published in 18 12]

WHOE ’

ER thou art, thy love of nature ledThese cloud- capped rocks and pa thl ess heights to

climbApproach this dell with reverential dread ,Where, bosomed deep in solitudes sublime,Repose the secrets of primeval time.But if thy mind degenera te cares degrade,Or sordid hopes convulse , or conscious crime,

Fly to the sunl ess glen’

s more genia l shade ,Nor with unhallowed steps this haunted ground invade .

Here sleeps a bard of long- forgotten year sNameless he sleeps , to a ll the world unknown

His humble pra ise no proud memorial bea rsRemote from man, he lived and died alone .Placed by no earthly hand , one mossy stone

Yet marks the sod where his cold ashes lie .

A cross that sod one lonely oak has thrownIts tempes t- shattered branches , old and dry

And one perennial stream ru ns lightly-murmuring by.

He loved this dell, a solitary childAnd placed tha t oak , an acorn, in the sod

And here, full oft, in hermi t-visions wild ,

In scenes by every other step untrod ,With nature he conversed , and nature

’

s god .

He fled from superstition’s murderous fane ,And shunned the slaves of Circe’s baleful rod ,

The mean , ma lignant, mercenary tra in ,Tha t feed at Moloch’s shrine the unholy fires of gain.

n o INSCRIPTION FOR A MOUNTAIN-DELL

IV

The stream, tha t murmured by his favourite stone,The breeze , tha t rustled through his youthful tree ,

To fancy sung, in swe e tly-mingled tone,Of future joys , which fate forbad e to be .False as the calm of summer’s trea cherous se a

I s beauty’s smile , in ma g ic radiance drest.Far from tha t fa tal shore , fond wanderer , flee !

Rocks lurk benea th the ocean’s limpid brea st ,And , deep in caves of night , storms darkly-brood ing

rest.

v

Love poured the storm tha t wrecked his youthful

Benea th his favourite tree his bones were la idThrough rolling ages towered its strength sublime,Orda ine d , unseen , to flourish and to fade.Its mossy boughs , now sapless and decayed ,

Fall in the blast, and moulder in the shower :

Yet be the sta tely wreck with awe surveyed ,

Sad monument of time ’s unsparing pow er ,

Tha t shakes the ma rble dome . and adamantine tower.

VI

Such was the oa k , from whose prOphetic shellBrea thed the primeva l oracles of Greec e

And here , perhaps , his gentle shade may dwell,Diffus ing tenderness and heavenly pe ace ,

Of power to b id the rage of passion c ease ,When some food youth , capricious b ea uty

’

slslave ,Seeking from care in solitud e release ,

Sha ll sit upon the minstrel'

s lonely grave ,And hear through withered boug hs the mounta in

b re ezes rave .

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122 YOUTH AND AGE

Regret or shame thou canst not knowNor pity for terrestrial woeCan che ck thy onward course , or change thy stern

de cree .

EPODE

And thou , in pa tience bear thy doom,

Benea th her heaviest bonds opprest

Tears cannot burst the marble tomb ,Where e ’en the sons of gods must rest.In life, in dea th, most loved . most blest,Was she for whom our frui tless tears are shedAnd round her cold sepulchral b ed ,

Unlike the tombs of the promiscuous dead,Wrea ths of eterna l fame shall spread ,

ThereZoft the traveller from his path shall turn,

To gu ce with holy rites her fu neral urn,

And muse benea th the lonely cypress shade.That:waves , in silent gloom, where her remains are la id.

YOUTH AND AGE

[Written a fter 1 8 1 1 ]

An ew : M tM ow. d os 82revapor. rm ) .

Euripides , Hercules Farms [63 7]

To me the hours of youth are dear,In trans ient light tha t flow :

But ag e is heavy , cold , and drear,As winter’s rocks of snow.

Already onmy brows I feelHis grasp of ice and fangs of stee l,Dimming the visual ra d iance pale,That soon eternal night shall veil .

YOUTH AND AGE

Oh not for all the gold tha t fling s ,Through domes of ori ental kings ,Its mingled splendour, falsely bright,Would I resign youth’s lovelier light.For whether wealth its path illume ,Or toil and poverty depress ,The days of youth are days of bloom ,

And health, and h0pe , and loveliness.

Oh I were the ruthless demon , A g e ,

Involved by Jove’s tempestuous rage ,And fast and far to ruin driven ,

Beyond the flaming bounds of heaven,Or whelmed where arctic winter broodsO

’

er Ocean’s frozen solitudes ,

So never more to haunt aga inThe cities and the homes of men.

Yet, were the gods the friends of worth ,

Of justice, and of truth ,

The virtu ou s and the wise on earthShould find a second youth .

Then would the true glory shine unfurled,A light to guide and guard the world,If, not in vain with time at strife ,The good twice ran the race of life,While vice, to one brief course confined ,Should wake no more to curse mankind .

Experience then might rightly traceThe lines that part the good and base ,As sa ilors rea d the stars of night ,Where shoreless billows murmuring roll,And gu ide by their unerring lightThe vessel to its distant goal.But , since no signs from Jove declareThat ea rthly virtue cla ims his careSince folly, vice , and falsehood proveA s many marks of heavenly love

123

124 PHG DRA AND NURSE

The life of man in darkness fliesThe thirst of truth and wisdom diesAnd love and b eauty how the kneeTo gold’s supreme divinity.

PH(EDRA AND NURSE

'

0 an d 9m “ “ M P1“7 ‘160mEuripides . Hippolyms [ 177]

Nurse On , ills of life ! relentles s tra inOf sickness , tears . and wasting painWhere sha ll I tu rn ? what succour c la imTo warm with hea lth thy fa iling frameThy couch , by which so long we mourn .

Forth from the pala ce doors is b orneTurn on these scene s thy languid sight .That brea the of life, and smile in light ,But now thy every wish was givenTo draw the ethereal heirs of heavenSoon will thy fancy’s wandering tra inReca ll the Chamber’s gloom aga in ,

Charmless a ll present objec ts seemThe absent fill thy feverish dr eamThy ha lf- formed thoughts new thoughts destroy,Nor leave one transient pause of j oy.

Yet b etter feel the sha rpest pains .Tha t rend the nerves , and scorch the veins ,

Than the long wa tch of misery proveBy the sick conch of those we love.In the worst pangs of sic kness known ,

Corporea l suflerance re igns aloneThe double pangs our vigils shareOf manual toil and mental care.The days of man in misery flowNo rest from toil and tears we know

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PHG DRA AND NURS

Nurse Alas I wha t words are these,

Oh b reathe not strains so sadly wild.Tha t seem with frenzy’s tint imbued.Before the listening multitude.

Pb a d ra Oh ! bea r me to these he ightsWhere wild winds bend the mountainWhere

,to the dog

’s melodious cry,

The rocks and caverned glens reply.

By heaven , I long to grasp the spear ,

Hang on the track of flying de er,Shout to the dog s , as fast we sw eepTumultuous down the sylvan steep.And hurl along the tainted a ir

The javelin from my streaming ha ir.

Nurse Alas wha t may these vis ionsWha t are the dogs and woods to theeWhy is it thus thy fancy rovesTo lonely springs and cypress groves ,

When here the hanging rock distils

Pha dra Goddess of Limun’

s sandy bounds ,

Where many a courser‘s hoof resoundsWould I were on thy field of fame ,

Conspicu ous in the equestrian game .

Nurse Still from thy lips such stra ins departAs thrill with pain my aged heart.Now on the mounmin heights a farYou long to urge the sylvan war ;Now , on the billow

-bordering sand .

To guide the re in with desperate hand.

Wha t gifted mind’s mysterious skillShall say whence springs thy secret ill ?

For sure some god’

s malignant swayTurns thee from reason's pa ths away.

PHGEDRA AND NURSE 1 27

Phaed ra Where has my darkened fancy strayedWhat has my rash delirium sa id PHow lost, alas how fallen am I ,

Benea th some adverse deityNurse , veil my head . The dream is pastMy mournful eyes on earth I castThe thoughts I brea the my memory rend ,

And tears of grief and shame descend .

Sad is the change, when reason’s lightBursts on the waste of mental night.Severe the pangs of frenzy

’

s hourBut, when we feel its scorpion power ,Oh, might the illusion never flyFor

’twere some blessing so to d ie ,

Ere yet returning sense could showThe dire rea lity of woe.

Nu rse I veil thee ! when shall death so spreadHis veil around my weary headTruths, oft by sages sought in va in ,

Long life and sad experience ga in.

L et not the children of mankindAflection

’

s bonds too closely bind ,

But let the heart unshackled proveThe links of dissoluble love.Loose be those links, and lightly heldWith ea se compressed , with ea se repelledMore tender ties the health destroy,

And bring long grief for transient joy.

Ill may one feeble spirit bea r ,

When double feelings cla im its care,The pangs that in the heart concur,Such pang s as now I feel for her.

For love, like riches , in excess ,Has more the power to curse than blessAnd wisdom turns from passion

’

s strife,To seek the golden mean of life .

128 CHORAL ODE TO LOVE

CHORAL ODE TO LOVE

l’

EPm:

'

Epws, 5xwr’duudrwv.

Euripides , H{ppolyms [525]

[Written after 1 8 I 2]

011 love ! oh love ! whose sha fts of fireInvade the soul with sweet surprise,

Through the soft dews of young desireTrembling in bea uty’s azure eyes

Condemn not me the pangs to shareThy too impassioned votaries bear,That on the mind their stamp impress ,Indelible and mea surelessFor not the sun’s descending dart ,Nor yet the lightning brand of Jove,Fall like the sha ft that strikes the heart,Thrown by the mightier hand of love.

Oh vainly, where , by Letrian pla ins,Tow

’rd Dian’s dome Alpheus bends,

And from Apollo’

s Pythian fanes ,The steam of heca tombs ascendsWhile not to love our altars blazeTo love, whose tyrant power arraysAgainst Mankind ea ch form of woeThat hopeless anguish bleeds to knowTo love who keeps the golden key,That , when more favoured lips implore,

Unlocks the sacred mysteryOf youthful beauty’s bridal door.

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1 3 0 AL M IO PRIMIERO AMORE

CONNUB IAL EQUALITY

'Ho'ocpbs 17c ows fir.

E schylus , Prometheus

[Written in 18 1 2]

OH 1 wise was he , the first who ta ughtThis lesson of observant thought ,Tha t equal fates alone may bles sThe bowers of nuptial happinessThat never where ance stral prideInflamm, or amu ence rolls its tide,Should love’s ill-omened bonds entwineThe ofispring of an humbler line.

AL MIO PRIMIERO AMORE

[Written in 18 1 3 ]

1

To many a shrine my steps have strayed ,

Ne’

er from their earliest fetters freeAnd I have sig hed to many a ma id ,

Though I have never loved but thee .

You th’s visioned sc enes , too bright to last,Have vanished to return no more

Yet memory loves to trace the past ,Which only memory ca n restore.

m

The confidence, no heart has feltBut when with first illusions warm ,

The hope , on one alone tha t dwelt ,The thought, that knew no se cond form,

TRANSLATION 1 3 1

All these were ours and can it b e

That their return may cha rm us yet

Can aught rema in to thee and me ,

Beyond remembrance and regret

V

For now thy sweetest smiles appearLike shades of joys for ever flown ,

As music in an exile’s ear

Recalls the strains his home has known .

VI

No more can bloom the faded flowerNo more the extingu ished fire can burn

Nor hope nor fancy’s mightiest powerCan burst young love’s sepulchral urn.

TRANSLATION

To the Ed itor of The M orning Chronicle

April 8 , 1 8 14.

MR Enrron,— It may perhaps gratify some of your

readers who are more conversant with the English thanwith the Greek drama , to bring them acqua inted witha passa ge of Euripides , which bears a striking resembla nce to a part ofHamlet’s soliloquy. The origina l linesbeing anapoe stic , I have given them in transla tion theform of that colloquia l lyric, which seems to me to bearthe most strict analogy our language will admit of tothe Greek tragedy and apoestic

THE days of man in misery flow,

No rest from toil and tears we knowThe happier slumbers of the tombAre wrapt in clouds and ve il

’

d in gloom,

1 3 2 LINES TO A FA VOURITE LAUREL

And hence our abject spirits shrinkFrom pressing that oblivious brinkStill fondly lingering to surveyThe radiance of terrestrial d ay,

Through fear tha t fate’s unpitying breathMay burst the deep repose of death ,

And ignorance of those paths of dread ,

Whi ch no returning steps may tread ,

We trace the mystic legends old ,

Whi ch many a dreaming bard has told ,And hear , half doubting , ha lf deceived ,

The songs our simple sires believed .

These lines form part of a speech of Phae dra ’

s nurse ,in the tragedy of Hippolytus The sentiments mayseem too philosophical for the personage, and A ris

tophane s has not fa iled to ridicule Euripides for puttingmoral disquisitions and logical subtleties into themouths of women . But it should be rememberedthat in the heroic ages , the nurses of princesses werefrequently princesses themselves , whom the chanceof war ha d thrown into captivity. P .

LINES TO A FAVOURITE LAUREL

IN THE GARDEN AT ANKERWYKE COTTAGE

[Written in 1 8 14]

How changed this lonely scene the rank weed chokesThe garden flowers the thistle’s towering growthWaves o’

er the untrodden paths : the rose that breathedDiflu sive fragrance from its christening bed ,Scarcely a single bud denotes the spotWhere glowed its countless bloom the woodbinedroops

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1 3 4 SIR PROTEUS

Through all the suflerer’s frame. the sweetest sleepThe weary pilgn

'

m of the ea rth ean know :

The long. obliv ious , eve rlasting sleepOf tha t last nig ht on which no morn shall rise.

SIR PROTEUS

A ss rrni car. BALLAD

BY P. M. O’DONOVAN. ESQ .

ZTHZATE MOI IIPQTHA HOAT’I‘POIION

mc s sr g ums 113 01111115 !

(Published by Roc khams in 18 14]

m i s BALLAD rs ms cnmsn ro ra n

RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD BYRON

With that deep conviction of the high va lue of hispraise. and of the fata l import of his censure ,

must necessa rily be impressed by the profound judgment with which his Opinions a re conce ived , the ca lmdelibera tion with whic h they are promulga te d . theProtean consistency with which they are ma intained .and the total absence of all undue bias ontion. from priva te partia lity or pe rsonal resentment ;with that admira tion of his tical ta lents whichmust be universally and inevita ly felt for ve rs iflca tionundecorated with the meretric ious fascina tions ofha rmony. for sentiments unsophisticated by the

delusive ardour of philanthrophy, for narra tive en

ve l ed in all the Cimmerian sub hmity of the impenetrab e obscure.

1 . JOBNNY on w e sm xv. c usvv CHASE

11 . 10mm? m ra n sm v. w e BATROS

m . JOHNNY (mos s m vi . ra s wom 's s un

SB A

SIR PROTEUS 1 3 5

s e c 1

OH I list to me for I’m about

To ca tch the fire of Chaucer,And spin in doleful measure outThe tale of Johnny Raw , sir 2,

Who, bent upon a desperate planTo make the people stare,

Set ofi full speed for HindostanUpon old Pou lter’s mare 3

Tramp tramp 1 across the land he wentSplash l splash across the sea

And then he gave his bragg ing4 vent

Pray who can ride like me

1 A variant opening of V irgil’s E ne id .

2Ou r hero appears to have been a ll naked fee linga nd raw life ’ , like A rva lan in The Cu rse of Kehama .

3 This is the Pegasa of the Cumberland school of

poetry. Old Poulter’s mare is the heroine of one ofou r old ba llads so full of beauty ’

. A modern bard ,whose works will be read when Homer and V irgil areforgotten ’

,was at infinite trouble to procure an im

pe rfect copy of this precious piece of antiquity, and

as rescued it from oblivion, s i a is placet, in the pagesof Tha la ba .

4 A fter all, perhaps , there is not much bragging inthe speech of ou r hero. He has cla ssica l authority forself-panegyr ic , and , what is still better, the authority of

Mr Southey :

Come, listen to a tale of times of old :Come , for ye know me i I am he who sungThe Ma id of Are ; and I am he who framedOf Thalaba the wild and wondrous song .

Come, listen to my lay, and ye shall hearHow Madoc , etc.

1 36 SIR PROTEUS

For I’m the man who sallied forth,

To rout the classic forces ,

And swore this mare was far more worthThan both fierce Hector’s horse s .

Most rig hteou sl thy soulLosthes the black catalog ue of uman crimes

misery : let tha t spirit fillThy song. and it shall teach thee , boy. to raiseStrains such as Cato mig ht have deigned to hear

What degree of lea su re Cato would have derivedfrom the Carmen rmmpha le for the yea r 18 14, is a

point tha t rema ins to b e decided .

Ranarian minstrels of all ages and nations haveenterta ined a high opinion of their own melody. TheMuses ofStyx , the Il ceplfiesKc . rafi dm u

, have transferredthe ir m t in modern days to the banks of the NorthernLakes . where they infla te the ir tuneful votarie s withinspiration and egotism. 0 do!“ concento l when, to

the philosophic wandere r on the twilight shore , ascendsfrom the depths of Winand er the choral modula tion :

Bpexexméf. kodE, Kod f.Bpexexrxe

‘

f, ( od i , nods.Anemi a. KM'CWréxva

2'

v Garter v

fl q ié pefl’

,

'

E PHPTN'

EMAN ’AOIAAN,

Kod f, rode.APIETN ANOTE BATPAX OI .

Brek-eh- eh- ex ! ko-ax l ko-ax l

Ou r lay’s harmonious burthen beIn vain on critic owl attacksOur b

'

the and fu ll-voic ed minstrelsy.

Still sha ll our lips the strain prolongWith strength of lung tha t never slacks

Still wake the wi ld and wond rou s song .

Ko-ax ! ko-ax l ko-ax ! ko—ax !Chorus in the Frogs of Aristophanes .

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1 3 8 SIR PROTEUS

DIVERSE LINGUE , ORRIB ILI FAVELLE

Evan while he sung Sir Proteus rose .

That wight of ancient fu n,

Wi th salmon-scales instead of clothes ,And fifty shapes in one.

He first appeared a folio thick,A glossa ry so stout,

Of modern language poli tic‘,

Where conscience was left out.

Le t me the many-c hang ing Proteus se e ,To a id mymany-c hangi ng melody .

It is not at all surpris ing . that a man, under a

tocase of moral and litical me tamorphosis , shouldesire the patrona ge 0 this multiform god , who maybe regarded as the tutelary sa int of the numerous andthr i sect of Anythingarians . Perhaps the passagewould ve been more applicable to himself , thoug hless so to his poem. if he had read ,

suo periculo

Zrfie a ré um Hpern'

ia woMrrpor or . 6¢pa mu mHomfl ov £160: lxw ,

'

OT AMEIBO HOIKIAON'

EIMA 1

Before my es le t cha ngeful Proteus floa t.When now change my many-coloured cos t.

‘This language was not much known to ou r ah

c estors : but it is now pretty well understood by thema jority of the H of C by the da ily. weekly,

monthly, and quarterly venders of anegyric and

defama tion , and by the quondam repu lice us of theNorthern Lakes . The echoes of Grasme re and

Derwentwa ter have responded to its melodi ousvocables . The bordere rs of Tweed and Teviot andthe ‘

Bmw , brow lad s of Ed inbroo'

are we ll versed inits tangible eloquence. Specimens of its use in

SIR PROTEUS

He next appea red in civic guise ,Whi ch C —s could not flout 1,With forced-mea t balls instead of eyes ,

And , for a nose, a snout.

And then he seemed a pa tri ot braw,

Who, o’

er a pot of froth ,

Was very busy, stewing straw,

To make the people broth .

composition may be seen in the Courier newspaper,in The Qu arterly Review , in The Ed inburgh Annua l

Reg ister , and in the rece ipts of the stamp- commissionersfor the country of Westmoreland .

1 C —s : This is a learned man,who does not want

instruction an ind ependentman, who always votesaccording to his conscience which has a singularhabit of finding the minister invariably right : a freeman , who always takes the liberty to do tha t whichis most profitable to himself ; a man , in short , of thefirst magnitu de , tha t don

’

t care nothing for nobodywhom he cannot turn a penny by : Rarum ac

memorab ile magni Gutturis exemplum conducendusqu emagister

1 who will be inexhaustible food for laughterwhi le he lives ; and , though not witty himself , be thecause of wit in others : and who, when he shall havebeen found , cum capite in Lasano, dea d of a surfeita fter a civic feast, sha ll be entombed in some mightyculinary utensil, vast as the patina of V itellius , or thefish-kettle of Domitian, which shall be erected in thecentre of the sa lle de s gourmands , with his Homericinscription, to transmit his virtues to posterity :

METEIIPEIIE I‘AZTEPI ' MAFFE I

AZHX EE '<I>APEMEN° KAI ‘ IIIEMEN' OTAE ‘ OI ' HN IZ '

OTAE' BIH EIAOZ

'

AE' MAAA ° MEI‘AZ 'HN OPAAZOAI.

Grea t was his skill, insa tiably to dineOn pounds of flesh and copious floods of wine :No menta l strength his heavy form inspired.

B ut hooting crou d s the portly mass admired.

[JuvenahSa tires , 11,

140 SIR PROTEUS

In robes collegiate , loosely spread ,

His form he seemed to wrap :Much Johnny mused to see no headBetween the gown and cap

‘.

Like grave log ician. next he drewA tube from garment mystic

And bubbles blew, which Johnny knewWere anti -hyloi sti c 1.

1 This mus t have be en something which had finishedits ed ucation . as the saying is , a t one of our lea rneduniversities.

1’There is a modern b ub b le b lower of this description .

whose philosophical career it is agreeable to trac e .First, we d isc over him up to his neck in fluids and

crystalliza tions , la to build a geological system,

in all respects conforma e to the very sc ientific narrative of tha tmost enlightened astronomer and ofound

cosmoganist, Moses . Emerging from his rimitiveOcean he soars into the opaque atmosphere of

scholastic dialectics , whence he comes forth the doughtycham ion of tha t egregious engine of the d i m

g:

and abor ineptiamm. syllogism ,Arme with

formidable weapon , he rushe s into the metaphys ica larena . in the consistent character of a dogmatizinganti-hyloist.1 insanire parans certa rations modoque

the existence of three d istinct sub stances .

tha t tha t of ange ls , and that of the souls ofmen , and annihila ting in toto the sun. moon . and stars .

and a ll ‘the visible diurnal sphere

'

; denying theevidence of his senses . and asserting the real i ty ofchimeras. Man acc ording to him. is a being spiritu al ,intellig ent and immortal , while all other anima ls are

insentient mac hines ; a proposition which must beamply esta b lished in the mind of every one . who wi ll

tak e the trouble of comparing a mammilliner with a

lion, an alderman with an elephant, or a Bond Stree t'[HorumSa l in e , 11. iii.n i l.

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x42 SIR PROTEUS

He wore a cauliflower wig .

With bubble fille d , and squeakWhere hung behind , like tai l of pig ,Sma ll lollypop of Greek ‘.

With rusty knife , he se emed preparedPoor poets

’ blood to fetchIn speechle ss horror Johnny sta redUpon the ruthless wretch 3 .

Like washing-tu b he next appearedO

'

er W ’s sea

8 tha t send sWhere poor John Bull stood all besmeared .Up to the ne e les in suds

ques tion : Utrum, Protée omnifonne se fa isant cig ale,e t musicalement exerca nt sa voix es jours canicula i res ,

pou rroit. d'une rosée ma tu tine soigneusement emba llée

a u mois de Mai , fa ire une tierce concoction , devant lscours entier d’une e scharpe zodiac al e —Pe rhaps MrKirwan himself will und ertake the solution : I knowno man so we ll qualified.

Sma ll skill in La tin , and still less in Greek ,

I s more than adequa te to all we seek !—Cowper .

9 The severity of this b lue -j acketed gentleman has beenrod uctive , on many oc casions , of very sa lutary efie c ts .

e is much.

more r rehe nsi b le for having condescendedto play/[t

he part of astice M id eas to MrWordsworth .MrsOpie. Wilson

, e tc e tc . , e tc while superior cla imantshave been treated with harshness or contempt. If

praise be withhe ld from Moore , compara tive 1usticerequires tha t it should not be given to Bloomfield .

The philosophica l enemy of idola trymay tea r the laurelwrea th from the brow of Apollo ; but he must nottransfer it to the sta tue of Pan.

1”M are A ustra le Incognitum. For a satisfa ctoryaccount of this undisc overed sea , consult the Lyric alBallads ofWilliamWordsworth. Esq .

John Bull is here alluded to in his domestic capa city.

SIR PROTEUS

Then three wise men he seemed to be,Still sa iling in the tub

Whose whi te wigs looked upon the sea ,

L ike bowl of syllabub 1.

The first he cha ttered, chattered still,With meaning none at all,

He is a sturdy wight, but the arch-fiend Corruption hasproved too strong for him . Let not the temporaryelation of triumph over hi s most inveterate foreign foeblind him to the insidious inroads of that more formidable enemy, which has a lrea dy plunged him so deep inthe a lkaline ebulli tions mentioned in the text. Amongthe causes which have contributed to his submersion,may b e enumerated the selfish and mercenary apostas yof his quondam literary champions . Where is nowthe eye tha t sees , the heart Tha t feels , the voice thatin these evil times, Amid these evil tongues , exaltsitself, And cries aloud aga inst iniquity ? Let theEd inb urghAnnu a l Reg ister answer the question. Whereare The skirts of the departing year ?’ Waving, likethose of a Courier

’

s jacket , in the withering gal esof ministerial influence. The antique enemi es of themonster Pitt are now the panegyrists of the immacu

l a te Castlereagh . The spell which A rmida brea thedover her capt1ve s was not more magica lly mighty inthe operation of change , than are the golden preceptsof the Language Politic , when presented in a compendions and tangible shape to the Sons of littlemen

Terra malos homines nunc ed ucat atque pu sillos ;Ergo Deus , q u icumq u e ad spexit, rid et et od it.

[Juvenal , Satires , xv, 70—1 ]1 These three wiseacres go to se a in their tu b

, as

their prototypes of Gotham d id in their bowl, not

to fish for the moon , but to write nonsense abouther.

144 SIR PROTEUS

Of Jack and J ill, and Harry Gill.And Alice Fell so sma ll‘.

The se cond of thre e graves d id sing,And in such doggrel stra ins ,

You might have deemed the Elfin KingHad cha rmed away his bra ins 2.

Lou d sang the third , of Pa lmy Isle,’Mid oceans vast and wild .

Whe re he ha d won a merma id'

s smile ,And got a fa iry child 3 .

Wh o knows not Alice Fell. the little 0 han A liceFell, with her cloak of d uflel g rey —and Gill ,whose te eth they chatter, cha tter, cha tte r

u

g a tter

still ? and Jack and J ill, tha t climbed the hill , to fe tcha pa il of water : when Jack fell down . and crackedhis crown , and Jill came tumbling a fter ?9 Surel ude to Mr ESTHER. Colthe pro ound transcendental metaphysician of b eFriend , the consistent panegyrica l politici an of theCourier, the self- e lec ted laurea te oi the asinine king.

the com nder of the divinest narcotic under theshape a trag e dy that ever drugged the beaux ofDrury Lane , the author of tha t irresistibly comicballad , The AncientM ariner , and of a very exquisite

piece of trag ica l mirth . also in the form of a ba lla d .

entitled The Three Graves , which read If you can !’

3 The adventures of this worthy are narra ted in a

rha od iml congeries of lim ng verse. entitled The I sleof aims , very loftily ext led by the Ed inb ur h Reviewers , and very peremptorily condemned y thetribunal of common sense .The whinning cant and drivelling afle ctation of this

author , wi th his‘dear God

o

, his‘ble ssed crea tures

and his‘happy livinmo d

g s‘

, which would b e insufle rvable in a spinster , with megrim, be cometrebly disgusting in the manZ

ing of a man who has no

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SIR PROTEUS

Next, like Tom Thumb , b e skipped alongIn merry Irish g ig :

And now he whine d an amorous song ,

And now he pulled a wig‘.

Whose frizzles, firing at his rage,Like Indian crackers flew,

Each wrapped in party-coloured pageOf some profound Review 9

.

cow-sheds , and c ow -dung and cow-

pack ; ye t, nevertheless , a considerable favouri te with the delicate andfashionable fa ir-ones of his d ay : at u is fa il alter )sc il. the b e llman rm; bellman , xa r

’

é oxvir. He was a

character v ridicu lously remarkable in the anna lsof rural per mery , who most lu d icrousl mistookhimself for a poet and philosopher , pa ss much ofhis time in star~gazing , wrote some dismal j n , whichhe christened Sonnets on the Petrarehan M I, kept ajourna l of the ra in and wind , and rang man a pa lof nonsense in praise of his friend Com , the armer

'

s

Boy, who was , inde ed ta li d ienus amico.—Juvenal,

Satiras v , 17 3 .

Disc ed o Alca ms puncto illius : ille meo quis ?Qu is , nisi Callima chus ?

(Horace , Epistles , 11 , ii , 994 00]Note by Professor Nodus- ln-Scirpo , of theUnivers ity

of Cambridge . It is well known tha t a certa in littlepoe t challenged a certain g reat critic to the d ead lyarbitrament of wd er and wadding. Of this circumsta nce the mu tiform Proteu s here se ems to makehimself symbolica l. The wig seems to typi fy the bodycorpora te of criticism, which, bein roughly handledin one of its side -curls , Opens fire om all its tria ls:on the daring assailant, in a volley of Ind ian crackers.

the d ifierent colours of which are composed of the

party-colours supposed to be worn by the respe ctivecorps of critics militant.

2Of neviews in the present d ay we have so“:

SIR PROTEUS 147

In jaunting-car 1, like tourist brave,Full speed he seemed to rush

superque . We have The Ed inburgh Review , alreadyeulogized ; and The M onthly Review, which I believeis tolerably inpartia l, though not very remarkableeither for lea rning or philosphy The Quarterly Review ,

a distinguished vehicle of compositions in the Langu agePolitic : and The B ritish Critic , whi ch proceeds on theenlightened principle that nothing can possibly beood coming from a heretic , or a republican ; and

The Antij acob in Review , and The B ritishReview ,

of which I can say nothing, never having read a singlepage of it ; and The Eclectic Review , an exquisite focusof evangelica l illumination ; and the New Review which

promises to be an u seful Notitia Literaria and The

Critica l Review , which I am very reluctant to mentionat all, as I c an only dismiss it in the words of Capta inBobadil : ‘

It is to gentlemen I speak : I ta lk to noscavenger ’

.

1 A wooden car, erpetuo revolu b ile gyro, may rumblethrough Ireland , otland , France, and the Netherlands , and annoy the ears of the English me tropolisw ith the echo of its wheels ; but it must not pretendto be the vehi cle of poetic inspira tion , unless the inuti leli num be mechanically impelled to the proclamationofits own emptiness . To illustra te thi s

proposition by

a case in point : A minute inspection 0 the varietiesof human absurdity brings u s a cquainted with the

existence of a certa in knight , who has travelled rapidly,profited spar ingly, and published enormously . Su b

limed into extraordinary daring b y the garlands ofdwa rf- la urel, torn from the bogs of the Shannon and theshores of the Ca ledonian lakes, he has a ctu ally made aprofane excursion on the boundaries of Parna ssus , and

presented the public with a curious collection of weeds ,

under the facetious title of Poems , by Sir John CarrAmongst these is one on a paper-mill. The knight hasbeen so good a friend to the paper-mill , tha t, had hisb ene factions stopped with his custom, he would have

148 SIR Psors vs

And chaunted many a clumsy staye .

Might make the Bellman blush.

merited the eternal gratitude of all tha t band ofmechanics who begin , wha t otherme chanic s like himsel fconc lude . the process of making a book . But hisbounty does not stop so short. Not sa tisfied withhaving ra ised the prwe of rag a and the wag es of thepaper-miners. he has ac tually favoured the world witha oem on the subj ec t

,written , as he says , en b ad inag e .

e ought to be much oblig ed to him for the information. as it shows , by contradistinction . tha t some of hi sworks have been written in sobe r sadness ; though Ibelieve the grea ter pa rt of those inde fatigable devourersof new pu b hcations who. by the a id of snufi and cofiee .

have contrived to keep themse lves awake over hislucubra tions , have imagined all his works to have bee ndes igned for bad inag e . from the burlesque solemnityand grave no-meaning of his sta tistical, political , andtopogra hical d iscusswns. to the very tragic a l merriment 0 his reta iled puns and right pleasa nt

s

(

é‘ri

ginal

conceits . But here is a p written profes y en

bad inage . Therefore badmans un peu Wi th the worthycavaliere errante .

LINES

Written on bad ina ge , a fter vis iting a pTunbridg e Wells , in consequence of the ovelyMissWwho exc els in drawing. reques ting the author to

describe the process of making paper . in verse.‘

I should imagine, from the young lady’s requ e sSir ohn to employ his gray1

quill on a pape r-mill.the elyMiss W. excels quizzing a s mu ch as she

does in drawing.

Reader ! I do not wish to brag.But , to display Eliza

’

s skill,I'

d

figoudly b e the vilest ra gt ever went to paper-mill.

‘

Or that ever came from it, Sir John might have added.

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i so SIR PROTEUS

And strummed one stra in ,

’twixt flat and sharp ,

Till all the strings we re broken.

and fit for u se

By dint of cutting up and hanging Sir John is madeuseful. Prese ntly he will b e ornamenta l.

‘Eliza l I would pray to thee

’

We see Sir John does not think of praying till a fterhe has been hanged , contrary to the usua l proces s on

If with thy pen thou would'

st amus e.Tha t thou would’st de ign to write on me .

’

Nay, nay, Sir John , not on you , Verse must be d ullon subj ects so d—d dry.

’

Gad'

s bud IA classical exclama tion , equ ivalent to the med ia:

fid z'

us of Petronius , the E dapal of Terence , and ther ); m obpurov of Aristophanes .

Gad’

s b ud 1 how pleasant itwould proveHer pretty chit-cha t to convey

The world is well aware of Sir John's ta lent forconv the pretty chit-cha t of his ac qua intanceinto his pper quartos ; but how p

leasant the operation has proved to any one but

'

mse lf, I am not

prepared to decide.P

'

rhaps

An Attic contrac tion.

P’

rha b e the re cord of her loveTol in some coy enchanting way.

’

I f this should b e the case l can inrnish the y

Scrivend’

toM mia forsemwto m ore

$ 14 d uro fogh'

o d’

asinine polio.

‘Or if her pencil she would tryOnme , oh may she still imprint

Those forms tha t 61: the admiringEach grac eful line, each glowing

SIR m ore vs 1 51

Like modish bard, intent to pleaseThe sentimental fa ir

He strung conceits and similes ,Where feeling ha d no share 1,

I know not what success the lovely Miss W . mighthave in making Sir John ornamental. Gillray,

wea ll know , tried his penc i l on him very successfully ,

and fixed a g lowing tint (of anger, not of shame ) onthe cheek of the exasperated Sir John.

Then shall I reason have to brag,For thus , to high importance grown ,

The world will se e a s imple ragBecome a treasure rarely known.

’

So ends this miserable shred of wha t Sir John ca llsb a d ina g e . Away ! thou rag ! thou quantity ! thouremnant l And so much for the Poems of Sir JohnCarr.

am Gé 01° an d é‘mykos’

Eppé‘rw' éx 74p 01¢péva g efl e

'

rowry-[er a Zeus.

[Homer, I liad , 3 76

Let him in peace the depths of Lethe ga in ,

Since a ll-wise Jove ha th robbed his sconce of bra in.

l Non mu ltum a b lud it imago [Hor Sat 11 , iii , 3 20]from Mr W. R . Spenser, a writer of fantastica l namby

pamb ies and epig ramma tico- sentimenta l madrigals ,on the clasp of a wa ist, or the tie of a garter, on theankle of Lady H k , or the bosom of Lady J y,etc etc etc . Mr S. trespasses so often on forbiddenground that the reader begins to anticipate strangethings, and is a lmost ready to excla im, Quos ag ar in

specus P [Hor Od es , III , xxv,

The fashionable world has its own luminaries of

taste and genius . Salem suum sua sid era nam ni .

[V irgil, E n v1 , But they have more of the meteorthan the star, and even of the meteor more of its transience than its lustre. The little lustre they possessis indeed meteoric , for it shines within a narrow circle ,and only a feeble report of its existence passes the

5 2“

SIR PROTEUS

At last, in cap with borde r red ,

A Minstrel se eme d to stand .

limits of its sphere . d d nos vix tennis [m a perlab itura ura. [V ir E n id , V ii. The solitary philosopher rea in some critical ephemeris tha t such a

has been observed : he notice s the subject for a

momen t. and returns to the contempla tion of those stars ,which have shone and will continue to shine for ages .

There are no resu lts of human art in which theflwmm atque cad ucam is so strikingly exemplified as inthose productions which constitute wha t may be d enom inated fashionable litera ture . This is one of the

a ffa irs of men in which there is no tide. There is norefiu ence in fashionable taste. It is an overflowingstream, which rolls on its inexhaustible store of new

poems ,new romances , new b iography. new criticism ,

new morality ,—to that oblivious g ulf from which very

tew ar e redeemed by the swans of renown. The fewso rede emed cease to be fashionable , and to the rea llyliterarypartofmankind they scarce ly begin to be knownwhen , to the soi -disant litera ti of the fashiona ble worldth are a lready numbered with thewi Dryden . and Draytou , and Sponsor . and otherobsolete worthies of every one of whom the fashionable rea der may excla im Notus mihi nomina tantmn I

[Hor Sat 1 , ix, 3 and who have bee n rudely thrustaside tomake way or thes e new- comers , as the choic es t

productions of Greek and Roman taste were trample dinto the dust by the Goths and Vanda ls , or as thesta tues of Apollo , Venus . and the Graces were throwndown and demolished by the more barbarou s fanaticsof the Dark A es , in order that St Benedict and St

Dominic , and t Anthropophag os , mig ht b e pla cedupon the ir pe d estals.

The g rea t d esider'

a tum in fashionable literature isnove lty . The last publica tions which have issued fromthe press in the department of the be llesco operate with the last princely téte , the lastafla ir ed crim. eon , the last semivir imported

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154 SIR PROTEUS

And su ch a thrill and piercing scrape

That none but Johnny'

s car could scapeUnfrac ture d by the stave .

Old Pou lter’s mare , in sudden frig ht,Forgot all John had taug ht her

And up she reared , a furious height ,And soused him in the wa ter.

terrorem on the s ide of common sense. and by stiflingin its b irth many a crude embryo of nonse nse. savemany a groan to the press , many a headache to the

and much perversion of intellect to the risinggeneration.

Praise, when we ll deserved , shou ld be freely given :

but in ca ses so despera te as the present , the severityof justice should not be tempered by the lea st degre e ofunmerited mercy. Common sense and taste can

sentoe l stem the torrent of d ere l and b ufloonerywhich daily poured forth by t e press .

Even as Fleet-ditch , with d isemb og u streams ,Rolls the large tribute of dead dog s to ames .

’

ens of Parnassus are overrun with wee ds.been sud ated to fa tten in obscurity by the

mistaken lenity of contempt. To bruise their headsis useless : they must be torn up by the room before

gaywholesome plant can have room to flourish in the—If we desire tha t Philosophy may re n d er the

temple of Apollo, we mus t not hesita te to throw downthe Ca ve the rubbish tha t dehles its courtsand cho its vestib ule . I would apply to subjec ts oftaste the severe morality of Sophocles

X pfir 8'

(6007 strutM e 7 02} r ad a rM y,

"

Ow n r ipe f pd cm ye 713 3 rim”00x“KTEINEIN TO PAPHANOTPI‘ON CTR ANHN BOAT

[Sophocles Electra , l505.]

SIR PROTEUS 155

on cm sax TU ?

TEN thousand thousand fathoms downBeneath the se a he popped

At last a coral cracked his crown ,

And Johnny Raw wa s stopped1,

Sir Proteus came and picked him up,With grim and ghas tly smile

And asked him to walk in and sup,

And fiddled all the while 2.

So up he got, and felt hi s head ,And feared his bra in was diddled

While still the ocean o’

er him spead ,

And still Sir Proteus fiddled.

And much surprised he was to beBenea th the ocean’s root 3 ;

Which then he found was one great tree,Where g rew odd fish for fruit.

1 Ten thousand thousand fa thoms down he droppedTill in an ice -rift,

’mid the eterna l snow,

Foul Arvalan is stopped .

’

Southey, Curse of Kehama .

2 Sir Proteus , having fixed himself in the shape mostpeculiarly remote from taste and nature, that of a

minstrel of the Scottish border, continues to act u tothe full spirit of the chara cter he has assumed by d d

ling with indefa tigable pertinacity to the fall of thecurta in.

3 For a particular description of the roots of theocean, se e Mr Southey

’

s Tha laba ,

i so SIR PROTEUS

And there were fish both young and old ,

And fish both grea t and smallAnd some of them had heads of gold ,And some no head s at all.

And now they came where Neptune sate ,With beard like any Jew,

With all his Tritons round in state,And all his Nereids too

And when poor Johnny’s bleeding sconceThe moody king d id view 1

,

He stoutly bellowed,all at once

Pray who the deuce are you

Tha t thus d are stalk , and walk , and ta lk ,

Benea th my tree, the sea , sir ,

And break your head, on coral bed ,Without the leave Of me , sir

'

OMAAOE A’

AAIAZTOE OPQPEI

POOR Johnny looked exceeding blue 2,As blu e a s Neptune’s self

And cursed the jade, his skull that threwUpon the coral shelf

1 Up starts the moody Elfin King ,’ etc etc etc .

Lady of the Lake .

2 Though in blue ocean seen ,

Blue , darkly, deeply, beautifully blue ,In all its rich variety Of tints ,Suflu sed with glowing gold.

’—Southey, M adoc.

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x58 SIR PROTEUS

Whose arms were iron spinning-wheels,Tha t twirled when winds d id pufl,

And forced Old Scratch to ply his heels,By dint Of usage rough.

Grim Neptu ne bade him stop the pealsOf such infernal stufl.

But when once in, no art could WinTo silence Johnny Raw

For Nereid’s grin, nor Triton’

s fin,He d id not care a straw

SO still di d spin his rhyming d in,

Without one hum or haw ,

Though still the crazy violinKept screaming Hoot, awa

’

l

Till all the Tritons gave a yell,And fled , in rout inglorious ,With all the Nereids , from the spellOf Johnny’s stave laborious ,

And Neptune scouted in his shell,And left stout Raw victorious .

very severe instig ation. The times have b een that whenthe bra ins was outthe man wou ld d ie b ut,.with so manyliving contradi ctions of this proposition, we can scarcelyrank the dead- alive Arvalan among the most monstrousfictions of Hindoo mythology whatever we may thinkof the s inning-wheel arms Of Kehama , who contrivesto split imse lf into eight pieces , for the convenience Ofbeating eight devils at once for which profane amusement he is turned to a red -hot coal. Voi la la b elle

imag ination I

SIR PROTEUS

ASPRO CONCENTO, ORRIBILE ARMONIA

BUT Proteus feared not Johnny’

s tongu e,And vowed to be the master

And still the louder Johnny sung,Bold Proteus scraped the faster

And ra ised a rhyme of feudal time,A song of moonlight foray,

Of bandits bold , in days of Old ,

The Scott, the Kerr, the Murray.

Who,by their good King James desired

TO keep up rule and order,Like trusty gu ardians , robbed , and fired ,And ravaged all the border.

Then sung he of an English peer],

A champion bold and brawny,Who loved good cheer, and killed his dear,And thrashed presumptuous Sawney.

Then Roderick, starch in battle’

s brunt,The changing theme supplied

And Ma id , that paddled in a puntAcross Loch Katrine ’s tide

And horse , and hound, and bugle’

s sound ,Inspired the lively lay,

With ho ieroe l and tallyho 1And yoicks and harkaway l

1 The good Lord Marmion, by my life 1

I S9

160 SIR PROTEUS

Then much he raved of lunar light ,Like huma n conscience changing ‘,

And damsel bright, at dead Of night ,With bold Hibernian ranging ,

1 Sir Proteus appea rs to borrow this part of his manycha nging me lod y from the exordium of Mr Scott’ 3Rokeby. which is in manner and form following :

The moon is in her summer glowBut hoa rse and the bree ze s blow,

And , racking o’

er er face , the cloudVaries the tincture of her shroud.

On Barnard's towers , and Tees’

5 stream ,

She changes like a guilty dream.

When Conscienc e With remorse and fearGoads sleeping Fancy’8 wild career.

He r light seemed now the blush of shame ,

Seeme d now fierce ang er’

s darker flame ,Shifting that shad e to come and go,

Like apprehension'

s hurried glow ;

Then sorrow’s livery dims the a ir,

And dies in da rkness , like despa ir .

Such vari ed hues the ward s: see sRefle cted from the woodland Tees .

It would not b e ea sy to find a minstrel stra in moreopposite , in every respect. to taste and na ture, thanthis . What is the summer g low of the moon P Glowis heat, or the appea rance of heat. But there is nohea t in the moon's rays , nor do I believe tha t the face ofthe lanet ever rese nted such an a earauc e . The

clou which me over the fa ce the moon , and

va ries the tincture of he r shroud , is a very incom re heasible cloud indeed . Ry rack I presume Mr ott tound erstand the course of the clouds when in motion .

This , Mr Tooke has shown . is not the truthe word . Rack is merely that which

va a steam , an exha lation. It is the past parti

;ciplig

u

t

r

ii the Anglo Saxon verb pocan . exha la re .

to1)

talk of a clou reeking or steaming over the fa c e Of

the moon would b e downrig ht nonsense But whethe r

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160' SIR PROTEUS

They might have thought , who heard the strumOf such unusual stra in,

That Discord’s very self wa s come ,With all he r minstrel tra in,

’

Headlong by vengeful Phoebus thrown ,Through ocean’s brea st to sweep,

To where Sir Bathos sits alone ,Ma j estic on his wire-wove throne,Below the lowest deep 1,

COLA DOVE E IL FINIMONDO

THOUGH Johnny prized the Jew’

s-harp twangBeyond old Homer’s harpz,

He little loved the barbarous clangOf fiddle cracked and sharp

r Tsi e lax, 75x; BAOIETON {maxfiovo'

g em fiépeOpov,Tdao'or évepo

’

Aiaew, 600V oflpa vos éa d v1royams.2 Our hero is not singula r. The harp of I srael isexalted above the lyre of Greece by the poetica l orthodoxy of the bards of the lakes

M wonium q u i jam soliti contemnere carmen ,

j ud a i eos d iscunt numeros servantqu e , coluntq u e ,Trad id it arcano q uoscumq u e volumine Moses l

Juvena l, Satires , xiv , 100.

which accounts for the a ir of conscious superiority and

dig nified contempt they assume towards those perverteddisciples of Homer and Sophoc les , who are insensibleto the primitive me lliflu enc e of pa triarchal modulation.

It is not less creditable to the soundness of their theolothan to the purity of their taste, that they herein d i or

tota caelo from the profane Frenchman, who concludeshis poem with a trea ty between the principa l personages

SIR PROTEUs 163

And when the names Sir Proteus saidOf Murray, Kerr, and Scott

The sound went crashing through his head,Like Van Tromp’s famous shot 1

Whi ch , like some adamantine rock,By Hector thrown in sport ,

Plumped hea dlong into Sheerness dock,And battered down a fort.

Like one astound , John stared around ,And wa tched hi s time to fly

And quickly Spied, amid the tide,A dolphin sa iling b y

And jumped upon him in a crack,And touched him in the fin,

And rose triumphant , on his back,Through ocean’s roaring d in

While Proteus , on his fiddle bentStill scraped his feudal j ig

Nor marked , as on hi s ballad went,His bird had hopped the twig.

So Johnny rose ’mid ocean’s roar,And landed was full soon,

Upon a wild and lonely shore,Beneath the waning moon.

of the ancient and modern religions of Europe , bywhich it is stipula ted that the latter shall continuethroned in glory on M ountSina i , while the former sha llreta in the exclusive and undisturbed possession ofMount Parna ssus .

1 This shot , I am informed , is still to be seen atShee rness .

x64 SIR PROTEU5

He sa te him down , bes ide a caveAs black as hell itself,

And heard the breakers roar and rave ,A melancholy elf

But when he wanted to proceed ,

And advertise his mare,In va in he struggled to be freed ,

Such magic fixed him there.

Then came a voice of thrilling forceIn va in my power you brave ,

For here must end your earthly course ,And here Oblivion’s cave.

Far ,far within its deep recess ,

Descends the winding road ,

By which forgotten minstrels pressTo Pluto’s drear abode .

Here Cr— k— r fights his battle o’

er ,

And doubly kills the sla in ,

Where Y no more can nod or snoreIn concert to the stra in .

Here, to psa lm tunes thy C—l—r—d g e setsHis serio- comic lay

Here hi s grey Pegasus curvets ,Where none can hear him bray.

Here dreaming W—rd s— th wanders lost ,Since Jove hath cleft his deck1

1 NHA GOHN dpMj‘ri xepa vrc

’

b

ZET‘E than: éxéa aoe , Ma g: évl ol

’

vom rom p.

[Homer, Odyssey, v , 1 3 1

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166 HEADLONG HALL

L’

ENVOY

GOOD reader 1 who have lost your timeIn listening to a noisy rhyme II f catgut’s d in, and tramping pa d ,

Have not yet ma de completely ma d

The little bra ins you ever ha d ,

Hear me , in fri endly lay expressingA better than the Bellma n’s blessingThat Nature may to you dispenseJust so much share of common sense ,A s may distingu ish smoke from fire ,

A shrieking fiddle from a lyre,And t hus , with his steed of a ir ,

From poor old Poulter and his Mare .

THE END OF PROTEUS

FROM HEADLONG HALL , 1 8 15

SONG

[By Mr Chromatic]

IN his last binn S1R PETER lies ,

Who knew not what it was to frownDeath took him mellow, by surprise,And in his cellar stepped him down .

Throu gh all our land we could not boa stA knight more g ay, more prompt than he,

To rise and fill a bumper toast,And pass it round with THREE TIMES THREE .

None be tter knew the fea st to sway,

Or keep Mirth’s boat in better trimFor Nature ha d but little clayLike that of which she moulded him.

LOVE AND OPPORTUNI TY

The meanest gu est tha t graced his boardWas there the freest of the free,

His bumper toast when PETER poured ,And pase d it round with THREE TIMES THREE.

He kept at true good humour’s markThe social flow of plea sure’s tide

He never made a brow look dark,Nor caused a tear , but when he died .

No sorrow round his tomb should dwellMore pleased his g ay old ghost would be,

For funera l song and passing bell ,To hear no sound but THREE TIMES THREE .

GLEE

A HEEL‘I‘AP l a heeltap I never could bear it l

So fill me a bumper , a bumper of claretLet the bottle pass freely, don

’t shirk it nor spare it,For a heeltap l a heeltap I never could bear it I

No skylight no twilight 1 while Bacchus ru les o’

er u s

No thinking I no shr inking I all drinking in chorusLet u s moisten our clay, since

’tis thirsty and porous

No thinking 1 no shr inking I all drinking in chorus l

LOVE AND OPPORTUNITY

OH I who art thou , so swi ftly flyingMy name is Love, the child replied

Swifter I pass than south-winds sighing,Or streams , through summer vales that g lide.

And who art thou , his flight pursu ing’Tis cold Neglect whom now you see

The little god you there are viewing,Will d ie , if once he

’

s touched by me .

168 HEADLONG HALL

1 Oh who art thou so fast proceeding,Ne’er glancing back thine eyes of flame

Marked but by few, through earth I’m speeding:

And Opportunity ’

s my name.Wha t form is that, which scowls beside theeRepentance is the form you see

Learn then , the fate may yet betide theeShe seiz es them who seize not me .

TERZETTO 2

GREY Twilight from her shadowy hill ,Discolours Nature’s vernal bloom ,

And shed s on grove , and field , and rill,One placid tint of deepening gloom .

The sa ilor sighs ’mid shoreless seas ,Touched by the thought of friends a far,

A s fanned by ocean’s flowing breeze,He gazes on the western star.

The wanderer hears , in pensive dream,

The accents of the last farewell ,A s , pausing by the mounta in stream ,

He listens to the evening bell.

BALLAD

O MARY , my sister, thy sorrow give o’

er ,

I soon shall return , girl, and leave thee no moreBut w ith child ren so fair, and a husband so kind ,

I sha ll feel less reg ret when I leave thee behind .

1 This stanza is imi tated from Ma chiavelli ’s Capitolod e ll

’

Occa sione .

2 Imita ted from a passage in the Pu rg atorio of Dante.

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170 HEABLONG HALL

In the old English soldier thy brother appea rsHere is gold in abundance, the saving of yearsGive me oatcake and milk in return for my storeAnd a sea t by thy side on the bench at the door .

CHORUS

HAIL to the Headlong I the Hea d long Ap-HeadlongAll ha il to the Headlong, the Headlong Ap-Headlong l

The Headlong Ap-Hea dlongAp

-Brea kneck Ap-Hea dlongAp

-Cataract Ap-Pistyll Ap-Rha ia d er Ap-Headlong l

The bright bowl we steep in the name of the HeadlongLet the youths pled ge it deep to theHeadlong Ap-Head

long,And the rosy- lipped lassesTouch the brim as it passes ,

And kiss the red tide for the Headlong Ap-Headlong l

The loud harp resounds in the hall of the Hea dlongThe light step rebounds in the hall of the Headlong

Where shall music invite u s ,Or beauty delight u s ,

If not in the hall of the Hea dlong Ap-Headlong ?

Huzza to the health of the Hea dlong Ap-Headlong !Fill the bowl, fill in floods , to the health of theHeadlong!

Till the stream rub y-glow ing ,On all sides o

’

erflow ing ,Sha ll fa ll in cascades to the hea lth of the Headlong l

The Headlong Ap-HeadlongAp

-Breakneck Ap-HeadlongAp

-Ca taract Ap-Pistyll Ap-Rha iad e r Ap-Hea d long

THE DEATH OF G DI PUS 17 1

THE DEATH OF (EDIPUS

SPEECH or THE MESSENGER To THE CHORu S m THEcam pu s AT COLONUS or SOPHOCLES—Dl. 1 586

[Written in 1 8 15]

YE men of Athens , wondrous is the taleI hea r : the fa te of ai d ipu s no moreIn the lone darkness of his d ays he roams ,

Snatched in strange manner from the paths of men.

You witnessed his departu re no kind handGuiding his blindness , but with steadfast tread,Alone and unsupported , through the woodsAnd winding rocks he led ou r wond

’

ring course.Till by that broken way, which bra z en stepsUphold , beside the hollow ground he stood ,

Where Theseus and Pirithous held erewhileThe compact of inviolable loveThere, in the midst , from the Thoric ian rockAnd the Acherd ian cave a lik e remote,He sate himself upon the marble tomb,And loosed his melancholy garb, and calledHis daughters , from the living spring to bearHis last ablution. They, to the near hillO f Ceres hastening , brought the founta in-flood ,

And wrapped him in the garments that beseemFunerea l rites . Then subterranean JoveThundered the ma idens trembled as they heard ,

And bea t their brea sts , and uttered loud laments .

Touched at the bitter sound , he wrapped his armsAround them Oh, my child ren I he exclaimed ,

The hour and pla ce of my appointed restAre found your father from this breathing worldDeparts a weary lot was yours , my children,Wide o’

er the inhospitable earth to leadA blind , forlorn , old , persecuted man.

These toils are yours no more yet well I deem

172 THE DEATH OF CEDIPUS

Afle ction overweighted them. and the love,The soul felt love, which he who cau sed them bore you ,

Whe re shall you find aga in ?’

Then on their necksHe wept, and they on his , in speechless woe ,

And all was silence round . A thrilling voiceCalled (Ed ipus I the blood of all who heardCongea led with fear. and every ha ir grew stifl .

Oh, (Ed ipu s l it cried . oh.md ipus lWhy tarry we ? for thee alori e we wa it l

’

He recognized the summons of the g od .

And ca lling Theseus to him, sa id .

‘Oh. friend ,

Now take my children by the hand , and pled geThy faith inviola te , to afim

'd them everProtection and support.

’

The generou s kingFulfilled his wish , and bade high Jove recordThe irrevocable vow. Then (Ed ipu sFolded his daughters in his last embrac e ,

And sa id Farewell , my children i from this spotDepart with fortitud e the will of fa teFrom all b ut Theseus veils the coming scene. ’

These words we heard with the receding ma idsWe turned away awhile reverting thenOur looks , the spot where (Ed ipus had be enWas vaca nt , and King Theseus stood alone .His hand before his eye s . his hea d bowed down ,

A s one oppresse d.

with superna tural light ,Or sight of some intolerable thing.

Then fa lling prostrate . on the g oddess EarthHe called , and Jove, and the Olympian god s .

How perished (Ed ipus , to none besideI s known for not the thunderbolts of JoveConsumed him , nor the whirlwinds of the de epRushed o

’

er his head and swept him from the world,But with some silent messenge r of fa teHe passed away in peace. or that dark chasmBy which he stood . disclosed benea th his fe etA tranquil pa ssage to the Stygian flood .

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174 EPILOGUE TO THE GUARB IANS

PROLOGUE

To MR TOBIN’S COMEDY OF The Gu ard ians , PERFORMED AT THE THEATRE ROYAL , DRURY LANE

,

NOVEMBER , 1 8 16

[Published in 1 8 16]

Spoken by MR

BEYOND the hopes and fea rs of earlier days ,The frowns Of censure and the smiles Of pra ise ,I s he, the hard , on whose untimely tomb,

Your favour bade the Thespian laurel bloomThough late the meed tha t crowned his minstrel stra in,

It ha s not died , and wa s not g iven in va in .

I f now our hopes one more memorial rear ,

TO blend with those that live unwithering hereIf on that tomb where geni us sleeps in night ,One flower expands to bloom in lingering light

,

Flower Of a stem whi ch no returning springShall clothe anew with buds and blossomingOh 1 yet aga in the votive wreath allowTo grace hi s name whi ch cannot bind his browAnd , while our tale the scenic ma ze pursues ,Still prove kind Gu ard ians to hi s orphan muse .

EPILOGUE

To THE COMEDY OF The Gu ard ians

[Published in 18 16]

Spoken by MR HARLEY in the chara cter of HINT

AT home , abroad , in gossip , or in print ,Who has not felt the mag ic power of HintSay, lovely ma id , what ea rthly power c an moveThat gentle bosom like a hint of love

’

?

EP I LOGUE TO THE GUARDIANS 175

Say,thou spruce bea u , Oppressed with loads of ra iment,

What half SO Shocking as a hint for paymentA hint of need , d rawn forth with sa d confessions ,Steps the full flow of friendship

’

s loud professionsA hint Of Hyde Park Ring from testy humours ,Stops Hint itself , when most agog for rumours .

Where’er I go, bea ux , belles of a ll degrees ,Come buzzing round me like a swarm of beesMy cra fty hook of sly insinuationI ba it with hints , and fish for informa tion.

What news , dear Hint It does u s good to se e

Your pleasant face we’re dying with ennui.’

Me bless you I I know nothing.

’

You’re so slyYou’ve something in your hea d Indeed, not I .

’

Tis true , at Lady Roc k’

s , j ust now I heardA whi sper pass. I don’t believe a wordA certa in lady is not over blameless ,Touching a certa in lord tha t shall be nameless .

’

Who who ? pray tell. ’ Excuse me .

’

Nay, you

shall.’

(In difierent voices )

You mean my La dy Plume and Lord Fa i - lalLord Smirk and Mrs Sparkle Lady Simple ,A nd young Lord Froth LordWhip and Mrs Dimple

(I n an I rish accent) D’

ye mean my wife , sir Giveme leave to mention

Thare’s no ill meaning in Lord Sly’s a ttentionSir , there

’

s my card : command me : I’

ll a ttend ,

And talk the ma tter over w ith a fri end.

’

Dear Ma j or l—no such thing you’re right in scorn~ing

Such idle tales I wish you a good-morning.

’

Away I speed from lounge to lounge I run,

With five ta les loaded where I fished for oneAnd

, entre nous , take care the town sha ll know,

The Ma jor’s wife is not quite comme il taut.

176 MELINCOURT

But Hyde Park Ring my cunning shuns in va in,If by your frowns I d ie in Drury Lane .If d ie I must, think not I

’ll tamely fall

Pit, boxes , gallery, thus I challenge all.

Ye critics near me and ye gods a farFa ir maid , spruce beau , plump c it, and j ovial tar 1Come one and all, roused by my valorous greeting ,

TO-morrow night to give bold Hint the meetingBring all your friends—a host—I ’ll fit them ni cely ,

Place—Drury Lane—time , half-past six precisely.

FROM MELINCOURT, 18 17

TRANSLATION [ORPHICA , HYMN

KING Of the world ! enthusiast free,Who dw ell’st in caves of libertyAnd on thy wild pipes notes of gleeRespondent Nature’s harmonyLeading beneath the spreading treeThe Bacchana lian revelry

THE TOMB OF LOVE

BY the mossy weed-flow er’

d column ,

Where the setting moonbeams glanceStreams a radiance cold and solemnOn the haunts of Old romance

Know ’

st thou what those Sha fts betoken ,

Scatter’

d on that tablet lone ,Where the ivory bow lies brokenBy the monumental stone

When true knighthood ’s shield , neglected ,

Mould er’d in the empty ha ll

When the charms that shi eld protectedSlept in death

’

s eternal thrall

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MELINCOURT

THE FLOWER OF LOVE

'Ti s sa id the rose is Love’s own flower ,

Its blush so bright , its thorns so manyAnd winter on its bloom has power,But has not on m "

m

" m any.

For though young Im e’

s ether-ml roseWill droop on Ag e

’

s wintry bosom,

Yet still its fa dm leave s discloseThe fragrance of the ir w liest blossom.

But ah ! the fragranc e lingering thereIs like the swe ets that mournful dutyBestows with sadly- soothing care,To de ck the g rave of bloom and bea uty.

For when its leavm are shrunk and d ry,

Its blush extinct , to kindle nevm'

,

Tha t frag ranc e is but Memory’s sigh.

Why d id not Love the amaranth choose ,Tha t hm no thorns , and cannot pm P

Ala s I no sweets its flowe rs diffuse .

And only swe ets Love’s life can cherish.

But be the rose and amaranth twined ,And Love, the ir mingled powers assumingsSha ll rou nd his brows a chaplet bind , .For ever swe et. for eva blooming.

’O

BALLAD TERZETTO A‘LADY, THE KNIGHT, AND THE N R

wha t dost thou he re,

And half the world is sleeping P

TERZETTO

The Knight O lady 1 here, for seven long year ,

Have I been nightly sighing,Without the hope of a single tearTo pity me were I dying.

The Lady Should I take thee to have and to hold,Who ha st nor lands nor moneyAlas I

’

tis only in flowers of goldThat married bees find honey.

The Knight O lady fa ir to my consta nt prayerFa te proves at la st propitiousAnd bags of gold in my hand I bea r,And parchment scrolls delicious.

The La dy My ma id the door shall open throwFor we too long have tarriedThe friar keeps watch in the cellar below,

And we will at once be married .

The Friar My children 1 grea t is fortu ne’

s powerAnd pla in this truth appea rs ,That gold thrives more in a single hourThan love in seven long years.

TERZETTO

I . HARK o’

er the silent wa ters steal ing ,The dash of oars sounds soft and clear

Through ni ght’s deep veil , all forms concealing ,Nearer it comes , and yet more nea r.

2 . Se e 1 where the long reflection glistens ,In you lone tower he r watch- light burns

3 . To hear ou r dista nt oars she listens ,And ,

listening , strikes the harp by turns .

180 MELINCOURT

1 . The stars are bright , the skies unclou dedNo moonbeams shine ; no breeze s wake.

Is it my love , in darkne ss shrouded,Whose dashing oar disturbs the lake

2 . O haste , swe e t maid , the chords unrollingThe holy hermit chides our sta y

2. 3 . Hark ! from his lonely islet tolling,His midnight bell shall guide our way.

THE MORNING OF LOVE

0 THE springtim eof life is the season of b looming ,

And the morning of love is the season of joy ;Ere noontide and summer, with radiance consuming,Look down on their beauty. to perch and destroy.

O fa int are the blossoms life’s pa thway adorning ,

When the first magic glory of hope is withdrawnFor the flowers of the spring , and the light of the morn

ing .

Have no summer budding. and no second dawn.

Through meadows all sunshine, and verdure. and

The stream Of the valley in purity fliesBut mix’d with the tides , where some proud city low ers ,0 where is the swe etness tha t dwelt on its rise

The rose withers fast on the b reast it first graoes ;Its b eauty is fled ere the day b e half d cme z

Aud iove is tha tflower which ca n b loom b u t for one.

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182 MELINCOURT

The hands are ruste d on its faceEven where they ow e d , in years gone by,

To keep the flying moments’

pa ce :

A point of ages passed away ,

A spe ck of time , that owns no tie

With aught tha t lives and brea thes to day.

But ’mid the rank and towering grass .

Where bree zes wave , in mournful sport,The weeds tha t choke the ruined court.The careless hours , tha t circling pass ,

Still trace upon the dia lled brassThe shade of their unvarying wayAnd evermore. with every rayTha t breaks the clouds and gilds the air.

Time’s stealthy steps ar e imaged thereEven as the long- revolving yearsIn self-reflecting circles flow,

From the first b u d the hedgerow bears.To wintry na ture’s robe of snow.

The changefu l forms of mortal thing sDecay and pass and art and powerOppose in vain the doom tha t fling sOblivion on their closing hour ;While still , to every woodland va le,New blooms , new fruits . the seasons bring,For other eye s and lips to ha ilWith looks and sounds of welcomingAs where some stream light eddying rovesBy sunny meads and shadowy groves.Wave following wave departs for ever,Bu t still flows on the ete rna l river.

QUINTETTO 1 3 3

QUINTETTO

M r Feathem estfiM r

'

Vamp, M r Ki llthed ead , Mr Paperstamp, and M r Anysz

'

d e Antij ack.

To the tune of Turning , turning , turning , as the wheel

goes round .

Reoitatz’

ve—M r Paperstamp Jack Horner ’s CHRISTMASPIE my learned nurse

Interpreted to mean the pu b lic pu rse .

From thence a plum he d rew. 0 happyHorner 1

Who would not be ensconced in thy snug corner

The Five While round the public board all eage rlywe linger ,

For wha t we c an get we will try, try, tryAnd we’ll a ll have a finger , a finger , a finger ,

We’ll all have a fing erf'

in‘

the CHRISTMAS PIE .

Feathem est By my own poetic laws , I’m a dealer

in applauseFor those who don’t deserve it, but will b uy,

buy , buy80 round the corner I linger , and thus I g et

a finger ,

A finger , finger , finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE.

The Five And we’ll all have a finger, a finger , a finger ,We’ll a ll have a finger in the CHRI e As PIE .

M r Vamp : My share of pie to win, I will d ashthrough thick and thin ,

$84 MELINCOURT

And philosophy and liberty shall fly, fly, flyAnd truth and tas te shall know, tha t their

everlasting foeHas a finger, finger, finger in the CHRISTMAS

PIE.

The Five And we’ll all have a. finger. a finger:a. finger,

We’ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE .

Killthed ead I’ll make -my verses rattle with the

din of war and ba ttle,For war doth increase sa -la -ry, ry, ty z

And I’

ll shake the public ears with the tri umphof Algiers ,

And thus I ’ll get a finger in the CHRISTMASPIE .

The Five And we’ll all have a finger , a finger,a finger,

We’ll a ll have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE .

M r Paperstamp And while you thr ive by ranting, I’

ll

try my luck at cantingAnd scribble verse and prose all so d ry , d ry,

d ryAnd Mystic’s patent smoke public intellect

shall choke,And we’ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS

PIE .

The Five We’ll all have a finger, a finger, a finger,We’ll all have a finger in the CHRISTMAS PIE .

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I86 MELINCOURT

Its lurid folds combiningAnd sa fely ride , with sa ils unfurled ,Amid the tempest’s roa rAnd se e the mighty breakers raveOn clifi and sand and shingle ,And hea r , with long re - echoing shock,The

'

caverned steeps replyAnd while the storm- cloud and the waveIn darkness seemed to mingle .

To skim beside the surf- swept rock,And glide uninjured by.

And when the summer sea s were calm,

And summer skies were smiling,

And evening came , with clouds of gold,To gild the western waveAnd gentle a irs and dews of balm ,

The pensive mind beguiling ,Should call the Ocean Swa in to foldHis sea -flocks in the cave ,Unearthly mu SIC s tenderest spell,With gentlest breezes blending ,

And wa ters softly rippling nearThe prow’

s light course along ,Should flow from Triton’s winding shell,Through ocean’s depths ascendingFrom where it charmed the Nere id ’

s ear ,

Her coral bowers among.

How sweet , where ea stern Nature smiles ,With swift and mazy motionBefore the odour-breathing breezeOf dewy morn to glideOr

’mi d the thousand emerald islesThat g em the southern ocean,Where fruits and flowers , from loveliest trees ,O

’

erhang the slumbering tide

THE MAGIC BARK 187

Or up some western stream to sail,To where its myriad founta insRoll down their everlasting rills

From many a cloud- capped height,Till mingling in some nameless vale ,’Mid forest- cinctured mounta ins ,The river- cata ract shakes the hillsWith vas t and volumed mi ght .The poison-trees their leaves should shed ,

The yellow snake should perish ,

The beasts of blood should crouch and cower,Where’er that vessel pas tA ll plagu es of fens and vapours bred ,

That tropic fervours cherish ,

Should fly before its healing pow er ,

Like mists before the blast.Where’ er its keel the strand imprestThe young fruit’s ripening cluster ,

The bird’s free song, its touch should greetThe opening flow e r’s perfumeThe streams a long the green earth’s breastShould roll in purer lustre

,

And love should heighten every sweet ,And brighten every bloom .

And , Freedom thy meridian bla zeShould cha se the clouds tha t lower,Wherever mental twilight d imObscures Truth’s vesta l flame,Wherever Fraud and Slavery ra iseThe throne of bloodsta ined Power,Wherever Fea r and I gnorance hymnSome fabled demon’s nameThe bard , where torrents thunder downBeside thy burning a lta r,Should kindle , as in days of old ,

The mind’s etherea l fire

188 SIR HORNBOOK

Ere yet benea th a tyrant’s frownThe Muse’s voice could falter,Or Flattery strung with chords of goldThe minstrel’s venal lyre.

SIR HORNBOOK

OR, CHILDE LAUNCELOT’S EXPEDITION—A GRAMMATICO- ALLEGORICAL BALLAD

[Published in 1 8 18]

[Reprinted in Summerly’

s Home Treasury, 1 846]

I

O’

ER bush and brier Childe Launcelot sprung 1

With ardent hopes ela te ,And loudly blew the horn tha t hungBefore Sir Hornbook’s gate.

The inner portals opened wide ,And forward strode the chi ef,

Arrayed in paper helmet’s pride ,And arms of golden lea f .

Wha t means he cried , this dar ing noise ,That wak es the summer d ay

I ha te a ll idle truant boysAway, Sir Childe, away !

’

No idle truant boy am I

Childe Launcelot answered stra ightResolved to climb this b ill so high ,

I seek thy castle gate .~

1 Childe , in ou r old ballads , often signifies a knight.

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190 SIR HORNBOOK

And four were liquids soft and sa d 1,

And all the rest were mute 2

He called his Corpora l Syllable 3 ,To range the sca ttered throng

And Capta in Word 4 disposed them wellIn bands compa ct and strong.

Now , mark , Sir Childe Sir Hornbook sa id ,These well compacted powers

Shall lead thy vent’rous steps to treadThrough all the Muses’ bowers .

I f rightly thou thyself address ,

To u se their profler’

d a id

Still una llured by idleness ,By labour undismayed

For many troubles intervene ,And perils w idely spread ,

Around the g roves of evergreen ,

Tha t crown this mounta in’s headBut rich reward he finds , I ween ,

Who through them all has sped

Childe Launcelot felt his bosom glowAt thought of noble deed

Resolved through every path to go,Where tha t bold knight should lead .

Sir Hornbook wound his bugle horn,Full long, and loud, and shrill ,

His merrymen all, for conquest born ,

With armour gli ttering to the morn ,

Went marching up the hill.

1 Four are liquids , l ,m , n ,r,

2 And twelve are mutes , b , c , d , f , g , h , k , p , q , s ,t,v.

3 A syllable is a distinct sound of one or more letterspronounced in a brea th.

4Words are articula te sounds used by commonconsent, as signs of ou r ideas .

SIR HORNBOOK 19 1

WHAT men are you beside the wayThe bold Sir Hornbook criedMy name is The , my brother

’

s A

Sir Article replied 1.

My brother’

s home is anywhere2,

At large and undefinedBut I a preference ever bear 3

For one fixed spot, and settle thereWhi ch speaks my constant mind

Wha t ho ! Childe Launcelot I seize them there ,And look you have them sure I

Sir Hornbook cried My men shall bearYour captives off secure

The tw a in were seized Sir Hornbook blewHis bugle loud and shrill :

His merrymen all, so stout and true,Went marching up the hill.

AND now a wider space they gained ,A steeper, harder ground ,

Where by one ample wall conta ined ,All earthly things they found

4

1 There are two articles , the , definite ; a or an , in

definite .The ind efinite article is used genera lly and ind eter

minate ly to point out one single thing of a kind : a s

There is a dog Give me an orange ’

.

3 The d efinite article defines and specifies particularobjects a s , Those are the men give me the book

4 A noun is the name of wha tsoever thing or be ingwe se e or discourse of.

x9:

1 Nouns a re of two kinds , substantives and ad

j ective s . A nou n substantive de clare s imown meaning ,and requires not another word to be joined with it to

SIR HORNBOOK

All be ing s , rich , poor , weak. or wise ,Were the re , full strange to se e .

Of high and low degree .

Before the circle stood a knight ,Sir Substantive his name 1 ,With Adjective, his lady bright,Who seemed a portly dame

Yet only seemed for whensoe’erShe strove to stand alone”,

She prove d no more than smoke and a ir ,

Who looked like flesh and bone.

And there fore to her husband ’s arm

She clung for evermore,And lent him many a grace and charmHe ha d not known before

Yet these the knight felt well advised ,

He might have done withoutFor lightly foreign help he prize d,He was so sta unch and stout.

Five sons ha d they, their dear delight ,Of d ifierent forms and fac es

And tuto of them were numbers brig ht3,

And three they christened oasw ‘.

Show its signifiica tion as , man , book , apple .

adjective cannot stand alone , but alwaysrequires to b e joined with a substa ntive of which itshows the nature or quality , as A good girl, a naughtybovyNouns have two numbers . sing ular and

1 and thre e case s : nomina tive , pm ive ,

j ective .

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Like lightning sped the arrows true,Sir Pronoun pressed the groundBut darts of science ever flewTo conquer , not to wound .

His fea r w as grea t his hurt was small

Childe Launcelot took his handSir Knight said he though doomed to fa llBefore my conq u ermg band ,

Yet kni ghtly trea tment shall you find,

On fa ith of. cavalierThen join Sir Substantive behind ,

And follow our career

Sir Substantive, tha t man of might ,Felt knightly anger rise

For he ha d marked Sir Pronoun’s flightWith no approving eyes .

Great Substantive, my sovereign liegeThus sa d Sir Pronoun cried ,

When you ha d fallen in furious siege ,Could I the Shock abide

That a ll resistance would be va in ,

Too well , alas I I knewFor what could I , when you were ta

’en ,

Your poor lieutenant, do

Then louder rung Sir Hornbook’s hornIn signa ls loud and shrill

His merrymen all , for conquest born,

Went marching up the hill.

SIR HORNBOOK 195

Now steeper grew the rising ground ,

And rougher grew the road ,As up the steep ascent they woundTo bold Sir V erb’s abode 1.

Sir Verb was old , and many a year ,

All scenes and climates seeing ,Had run a wild

,

and strange careerThrough every mode of being .

And every aspect, shape, and changeOf action , and of passion

And known to him was a ll the rangeOf feeling, taste , and fa shion .

He was an Augur , quite at homeI n all thing s present d one

2,

De ed s past, and every a ct to comeIn age s yet to run.

Entrenched in intrica cies strong ,Ditch , fort, and palisado ,

He marked with scorn the coming throng ,And brea thed a bold bravado

Ho 1 who are you tha t dare invadeMy turrets , moats , and fences

Soon will your vaunting courage fade ,When on the walls , in lines arrayed ,

You se e me marshal undismayedMv host of moods and tenses

1 A ve rb is a word which signifies to b e , to do, or to

sufie r a s I am ,I love , I am loved ’

.

2 The two lines in ita lics are ta ken from Chapman’sHomer .

3 V erb s have five moods the indica tive, imperative,potentia l, subjunctive , and infinitive .

196 SIR HORNBOOK

In vain Childe Launcelot cried in scorn ,

On them is your relianceSir Hornbook wound his bugle horn,And twang

’

d a loud defiance.

They swam the moa t, they sc aled theSir Verb , with rage and shame,Beheld his valiant. g eneral fall,Infinitive by name 1.

Indicative d e clared the foes 11

Should perish by his handAnd stout Impera tive aroseThe squadron to command 3 .

Potential ‘1 and Subjunctive 1s thenCame forth with doubt and chance .

All fell alike, with all their men,

Before Sir Hornbook’s lance.

Action and Pa ssion nought could doTo save Sir V erb from fate

Whose doom poor Participle knew6,He must participate .

1 The infinitive mood expresses a thing in a generaland unl imited manner : as

‘To love , to walk , to be

ruled2The indicative mood simply indicates or declares

a thing , a s , He loves he is loved or asks a question as Does he love I s he loved

3 The imperative mood commands or entrea ts : as

Depart : come hither forgive me‘1 The potential mood implies possibility or obligation a s Itmay ra in they should learn

5 The subjunctive mood implies contingency as

I f he were good , he would be happy6The participle is a certa in form of the verb , and is

so called from participating the na ture of a verb andan adjective : a s he is an a dmire d character ; sheis a loving child

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198 SIR HORNBOOK

SIR SYNTAX dwelt in thi ck fir-grove 1 ,All strown with scraps of flowers 2,Which he ha d plu ck

’

d to plea se his love ,Among the Muses ’ bowers .

His love wa s gentle Prosody 3 ,More fair than morning beamWho lived beneath a flowering tree ,Beside a falling stream.

And these two cla im’

d , with high pretence ,The whole Parnassian ground,

Albeit some little differenceBetween their ta ste was found

Sir Syntax he was a ll for sense ,And Prosody for sound .

Yet in them both the Muses fa irExceedingly delighted

And thought no earthly thing so rare ,Tha t might with tha t fond twain compare ,When they were both united .

Ho yield , Sir Syntax I Hornbook cried ,

Thi s youth must pass thy grove,Led on by me , his faithful g uide,In yonder bowers to rove

1 Syntax is tha t part of grammar , which trea ts of

the agreement and construction of words in a sentence .

2 I allude to the poe tica l fragments with whichsyntax is illustrated .

3 Prosody is that part of grammar which trea ts of

the true pronunciation of words , and the rules of versification.

SIR HORNBOOK 199

Therea t full much Sir Syntax sa id,But found resistance vain

And through his grove Childe Launcelot sped ,

With all Sir Hornbook’s train .

They rea ch’

d the tree where ProsodyWas singing in the shade

Great joy Childe Launcelot had to se e ,

And hear that lovely maid .

Now onwards as they press’

d along,Did nought their course oppose

Till full before the martial throngThe Muses ’ ga tes arose.

There Etymology they found 1,Who scorned surrounding fruits

And ever dug in deepest ground ,For old and mouldy roots .

Sir Hornbook took Childe Launcelot’s hand ,And tears at parting fellSir Childe he sa id , wi th all my bandI b id you here far ewell.

Then wander through these sacred bowers ,Unfearing and alone

All shrubs are here , and fruits , and flowers ,To happiest climates known

Once more his horn Sir Hornbook blew,

A parting signa l shrillHis merrymen a ll , so stout and true,Went marching down the hill.

1 Etymology is that part of grammar, which in

vestig ates the roots , or derivation , of words.

zoo RHODODARHNE

Childe Launce lot pressed the sacred ground ,

With hope’

s exulting glowSome future song pe rchauce may soundThe wondrous things which there he found .

If you the same would know.

RHODODAPHNE

on, rHE THESSALIAN SPELL

A POEM

[Published by Roc khams , 18 18]

PREFACE

The ancient celebrity of Thessalian

givenfrom Hora ce, to

el andetamorphoses of Apu leius turn entir y upon it ,

the following passage in that work might serve as the

text of a longcommentary on the subject.

‘Con

sid ering tha t was now in the middle of Thessalycelebrated b the accordant voice of the world a s the

birthplac e e malgic art, I examined a ll things with

intense curiosity. or d id I believe anything whichI saw in tha t ci ty (Hypa ta ) to be wha tbut I imagined tha t eve object aroundchan by incanta tion om its na tura lthe es of the streets . and the watersta ins , were ind urated and liquefied human bodi es ; and

tha t the tree s which surrounded the city, and thewhich were singin

glin their bou ghs , were equa llye disguise of leaves and fea thers .

e sta tues and imag es to wa lk , the wa llsto

goa ls I antic ipa ted prephe tic voices from the

oracles from the morning sky’.

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so: RHODODAPHNE

is

ails? its forms are in some rneasm

W ed Lovehe g ave to his mistrm Phryne , who b e etowed

tion b y the ancie nts. Cicero ‘spea lcs of it a the grmand only attraction of

'

l'

ha pia .

The time is an intermediate pe riod b etwe en theof the Gre ek ed ians , who are allud ed to in

tha t of Pausanias. in whose timea ltar ha d be en

0.

RHODODAPHNE 203

tha t species of judgment , which, having neither lightnor tact of its own , can only se e and feel through themedium of authority .

Zo¢bs 6“5

'o e ldchs ¢ué°

uafiévr es Gé Xdflpocwayykw olg , xépaxe s (i n, dxpa rra yapée ror

Au): r pb s opr cxa 062011.Pindar , Olymp ii . 155.

Rogo vos , Oportet, cre d atis , sunt mu lieres plus se ize ,

su nt nocturna , et quod sursum est deorsum fac iunt

Petronius [Satyricom 6

THE bards and sages of departed GreeceYet live , for mind survives ma teria l doomStill, as of yore , benea th the myr tle bloomThey strik e their golden lyres , in sylvan pea ce.Wisdom and Liberty may never cease ,Once having been , to be but from the tombTheir mighty radiance streams a long the gloomOf ages evermore w ithout decrea se.Among those gifted bard s and sa es old ,

Shunning the living world , I dwe and hea r,Reverent , the creeds they held , the tales they toldAnd from the songs tha t charmed their la test ear ,

A yet ungathered wrea th, with fingers bold ,I weave, of bleeding love and magicmysteries d rear.

CANTO I

THE rose and myrtle blend in bea utyRound Thespia n Love’s hypa thric faneAnd there alone , with festa l dutyOf j oyous song and choral tra in,

From ma ny a mounta in , stream , and va le,And many a city fa ir and free ,The sons of Greece commingling ha ilLove’s primogenial deity.

204 RHODODAPHNE

Ce ntral amid the myrtle groveTha t vene rable temple standsThree sta tu es , raised by gifted hands ,

Distinct with scu lptured emblems fa ir ,

His three fold influence ima ged bear.Crea tive , Heavenly, Earthly Love ‘.The first , of stone and sculpture rude ,

Not even in vague tradition knownThe hand that ra ised tha t ancient stone .Of brass the next, with holiest thought ,The skill of Sicyon

‘s artist wrought 9,

‘Primogenial , or Cre ative Love. in the Orphic mthology, is the first-born of Nig ht and Chaos , the magianc ient of the gods , and

According to Ar istophanes ,

the bosom of Erebus , and

burst in due season from theas Plutarch informs us in his Eroticnixed three distinct owers of Love :Heavenly ; the Pan emian , Vulgar or Earthly : and

the Sun. Tha t the id enti of the Sun and Primog enialLove w as recogniz ed also y the Gree ks . appe ars fromthe communi ty of their epithets in mythologica l poetry.

as in this Orphic line Ilpwrér

yovosW SW r epmrjxror «poowas. Lactaniu s observes thatLove wa s called p rhon s,

which s ignifies both first-produced and first-produc ing ,becaus e nothin was born before him , but a ll thingshave proce ed from him . Prim enial Love is te

presented in antiques mou nted on e bw k of a lion.Egyptian origin . is trac ed by the moderninterpreters of mythol to the Le o of

the Zodia c. Uranian Love , in e mytholog icalt y of Plato , is the deity or enius of purementa l passion for the good and the eautiful ; andPand emi an Love, of ordinary sexua l a ttachme nt.3 Lysippus.

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206 RHODODAPHNE

Sacred to his gentler power,Twined in garlands bright and sweet,

And on his name they callFrom thousand lips , with glad accla im ,

Is brea thed at onc e that sacred nameAnd music , kindling at the sound ,

Wafts holier , te nderer strains aroundThe rose a richer sweet exhalss :

The myrtle waves in softe r galaThrough every breast one influence fliesAll ha te , all evil passion diesThe heart of man, in tha t bles t spe ll ,Becomes at once a sa cred cell,Where Love , and only Love, can dwell 1.From Ladon’a shores Anthemim came .

Arca dia n Ladon , lovelies t tideOf all the streams of Grecian nameThrough rocks and sylvan hills tha t g lide .

The flower of all Arca dia ’s you th

Was b e : such form and fac e , in truth ,

As thoughts of gentlest ma idens seekIn the ir d ay-dreams soft. glossy hairShad owed his forehead. snowy- fa ir ,

With many a hyac inthine clusterLips , tha t in silence se emed to speak ,

Were his , and eyes of mild blue lustreAnd even the paleness of his chee k,The passing trace of tender care,

‘Sa erifices were offered at this fes tival for ttheall pu blic and

'

vate dissthe b

'

nning o Pluta rc h ’

s

dialogue, says , tha t his ther and mother , when first

married , went to the Thespian fes tival , to sacrifice toLove. on ac count of a quarrel b etw een the ir pa rents.

RHODODAPHNE

Still showed how bea utiful it wereIf its own natural bloom were there.His na tive val e, whose mountains high

The barriers of this world ha d been ,

His cotta ge home , and ea ch dear sceneHis haunt from ea rli est infancy,

He left, to Love’

s fa ir fane to bringHis simple wild-flow er offering.

She w ith whose life his life was twined ,

His own Calliro'

e'

, long had pinedWith some strange ill , and none could findWha t secret cause d id thus consumeTha t peerless maiden’s rosea te bloomThe A sclepian sage’s skill was vainAnd vainly have their vows been pa idTo Pan, benea th the odorous shadeOf his tall pine and other a id

Must needs be sought to save the ma idAnd hence Anthemion came , to tryIn Thespis ’

8 old solemnity ,

I f such a lover ’

s prayers may ga inFrom Love in his primeva l fane .

He mingled in the votive tra in ,

Tha t moved around the a lta r’s base .

Every sta tue ’s beauteous faceWas turned towards that central alta r.

Why d id Anthemion’s footsteps fal terYVhy paused he , like a tale- struck child ,

W'

hom darkness fills with. fancies wildA vis ion strange his sense ha d boundIt seemed the brazen sta tu e frownedThe marble sta tue smiled .

A moment, and the semblance fledAnd when aga in he lifts hi s hea d ,Each sculptu red face a lone presentsIts fixed and placid lineaments .

He bore a simple wild-flow er wrea th

207

3 08 RHODODAPHNE

Narcissus, and the swee t-briar rose ;

Verva in, and flexile thyme , tha t brea theRich frag rance ; modest heath , tha t glowsWith purple bells the amaranth b rig ht,Tha t no decay nor fading knows ,Lik e true love’s holiest, ra rest lightAnd every purest flower , tha t b lowsIn tha t sweet time, which Love most b le sses ,When spring on summer’s confines presse s .

Beside the alta r‘s foot he sta nds ,And murmurs low his suppliant vow,

And now upli fts with duteous handsThe votive wild-flower wrea th, and nowAt once , as when in vernal nig htComes pale frost m

'

eastern blight,Swe eping wi th des tructive wingBanks untimely blossoming ,

Droops the wrea th, the wild-flowe rs d ieOne by one on earth they lie ,Blighted strang ely , suddenly.

His bra in swims round portentous fearAcross his wildered fancy fliesShall dea th thus seize his ma iden dearDoes Love reject his sa crificeHe ca ught the arm of a damsel nea r,And soft swee t acc ents smote his ear

—’

IWhat a ils thee , stranger Leaves are sear,

And flowers are dead . and fields are dre ar ,And streams are wild , and skies are blea k,

And white with snow ea ch mountain’s pea k .

When winter rules the yearAnd children grieve , as if for aye

Leaves , flowers , and b irds were past awayBut buds and blooms aga in are se en

,

And field s are gay, and hills are green,

And streams are bright , and sweet b irds singAnd where is the infant

’

s sorrowing

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z ro RHODODAPHNE

Flowers may d ie on many a stemFruits may fall from many a tre e ;

Not the more for loss of themShall this fa ir world a desert beThou in every grove will se eFru its and flowers enough for thee .

Stranger l I with thee will shareThe votive fruits and flowers I hea r .

Rich in fragrance, fre sh in bloomThese may find a happi er doom :

If they change not , fa de not now ,

Deem that Love acc epmthy vowThe youth. mistrustless , from the maid

Received. and on the altar la idThe votive wrea th it d id not fad eAnd she on his her oflering threw.

Did fancy cloud Anthemion’s viewOr d id those sister garlands fa irInde ed entwine and blend again .

Wrea thed into one , even as they were .Ere she , their brilliant sweets to share,Unwove their flowery cha in PShe fixed on him her ra d iant eyes ,

And Love's propitious power —she sa idAccepts thy se cond sacrifice .The sun descends tow’

rd s ocean‘s bed .

Day by day the sun doth set,

And day by d ay the sun doth rise.And grass , with evening dew-drape wet,The morning radiance dries :And wha t if beauty slept , where peersTha t mossy grass , and lover

’

s tearsWere mingled with tha t evening d ewThe morning sun would dry them too.

Ma ny a loving heart is nea r,Tha t shall its plighted lo

ve forsakeMany lips are brea thing here

RHODODAPHNE a tr

Vows a few short days w ill breakMany ,

lone amidst mankind ,

Claim from love’s unpitying powerThe kindred hea rt they ne’er shall findMany, at this fes tal hour ,

Joyless in the joyous scene ,Pass , with id le glance unmoved ,

Even those whom they could best haveloved ,

Ha d means of mutu al knowledge beenSome meet for once and part for aye ,

Like thee and me , and scarce a d ayShall ea ch by ea ch remembered beBut take the flower I give to thee,And till it fa des remember me

’

.

Anthemi on answered not his brainWas troubled with conflic ting thou ghtA d im and dizzy sense of pa inTha t mai d’s surpassing bea uty broughtAnd strangely on his fa ncy wroughtHer mystic moralizings , fraughtWith half-prophetic sense , and breathedIn tones so sweetly wild .

Unconsciously the flower he took ,

And with absorbed admiring lookGaz ed , as with fascina ted eye

The lone bard gaz es on the sky,

Who, in the bright clouds rolled and wreathedAround the sun’s descending car ,

Sees shadowy rocks sublimely piled ,

And phantom standards wide unfurled ,

And towers of an aeria l worldEmbattled for unea rthly war.

So stood Anthemion , till amongThe maz es of the festa l throngThe damsel from his sight had pastYet well b e marked tha t once she cast

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RHODODAPHNE

For pures t fra grance deadli est bane

TA an M60. éxei'

vn our air M a fi nal isi rd 6'

fir ‘rv'

p

d‘yplar M ari ta M ada m a i‘rr'bv mkofiaw M o

r

mxbv dpwm h e: rofiro f ow l, ml lmrcp' m l rbr

reign s d rwvfloxew a tlrlxa . Lucianus in A sino.

ese roses were not true roses : they we re flowersof the wild laurel , which men ca ll rhod oda phne , or

rose-laure l. It is a had d i nner for either horse or ass.

the eatin

gmgf it being a ttended by immediate dea th.

'

A uleius amplified this passag e : I observed fromthe deep shades of a l grove, throu gh whose

diversified and abundant ver ure shone the snowycolour of refulg ent rose s . As my perce tions and

feelings were not asinine like my sha e‘. judg ed itto be a sacred grove of V enus and e Graces . wherethe celestia l splendour of their genial flowerthrough the dark-gree n shades . I invoked

pitious er of j oyful Event , and sprangwi th as s I were not indeed an ass , b ut

charioteer. But this splendideflort of not enable me to outru n the

cruelty of For on approaching the spot,

I saw , not those tender and delica te rose s , the ofispnngof auspicious bu shes , whose fra grant leaves ma kenec tar of the morning dew nor yet the deep wood Ihad seemed to se e from a far ; but only a thi ck line dtrees sk irting the ed g e of a river. These tre es . clothedwith an ab andant and la urel-lik e folia ge , from whichthey stre tch forth the cups of the ir pale and inodorousflowers , are called , among the u nlea rned rus tics ,

by thefar from rustic appella tion of laurel-roses : the ea ofwhic

e‘

l

’

i

fl

is mortgl

d

to all q uat

f

i ru

pe d s.

I

Thu s on

b fate . an espairing o sa e wa s on the pointJ swallowing the poison of thoseqfictitious roses . etc.

“This“ ken in the characte r of Luc ius , who ha s b e e n chang e dinto an ass y a Thessa lian ointment, and ca n b e re store d to his trueshape only by the e a ting of roses .

RHODODAPHNE 2 15

Art thou a scorner dost thou throwDefiance at hi s power 7 Beware lFull soon thy impious youth may knowWha t pangs hi s sha fts of anger bearFor not the sun’s descending dart,Nor yet the lightning- brand of Jove,Fall like the sha ft tha t strikes the hea rtThrown by the mightier hand of Love ’

.

Oh stranger not with impious thoughtMy steps this holy rite have sought.With pious heart and ofiering s dueI mingled in the votive tra inNor d id I deem this flower profaneNor she , I ween ,

its evil knew,

That radiant g irl, who bade me cherishHer memory till its bloom should perishWho, and wha t , and whence wa s she

A stranger till this hour to me

Aroun anssa’

s e s

In tufts of rain; luxuriance g rows ,’Mid drea ry va lleys , by the fallsOf ha unted streams

,and magic knows

No herb or plant of d e ad lieWM EM MThe echoes of those dismal dells,What time the murky midnight dewTrembles on many a lea f and blossom ,

Tha t draws from earth’s polluted bosomMysterious virtue , to imbueThe cha lic e of unna tu ra l spells .

Oft, those d rea ry rocks among,The murmurs of unholy song ,Brea thed by lips as fa ir as hers

Pliny says , that this pla nt , though poison toquadrupeds ,is an antidote to men a ga inst the venom of serpents .

are RHODODAPHNE

By whose false hands that flower was giv en ,

The solid earth ’

s firm breast have riven,And burst the silent sepu lchres ,And called strange shapm of ghastly fear ,

To hold, beneath the sickening moon ,

Portentous parle. at night’

s deep noon,With bea uty sld lled in mysteries drear .

councils share ,

d ocea n bearTheir mand ates to the storms tha t tearThe rock o enroote d oak , and sweepWi th whirlwind wings the labouring deep.

Their worm pow m make them .

W umt on their mounta in-springs ,torture sleep with d ire ful dreams,

And Fnfi eshapé Gf'

ea rthly things .

Man. hw t, bird . fish, with influenc e strange ,Brea the foul and fea rful interchange ,And fix in ma rble bonds the formErewhile with natura l being warm ,

And give to senseless stones and stocksMotion , and brea th, and shape that mocks,As far as nices t eye can scan.

The action and the life of man.

Beware ! ye t once a ga in bewareE re round thy inexpe rience d mind ,M th voic e and semb lance falsely fa ir.

Which never more, oh youth I believeShall either earth or heaven unweave.While yet he spoke , the morning scene ,

In more portentous hues arrayed,Dwelt on Anthemion’

s mind a shadeOf de eper mysta y veiled the mi enAnd wa ds of tha t refu lgent maid .

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2 18 RHODODAPHNE

There on thy Natal Genius call‘

For aid , and with averted faceGive to the stream tha t flower , nor lookUpon the running wave ag a inFor, if thou should’st. the sacred plane

va inNorNor t hus , nor Arca dian Pan,

Diss olve thy tenfold chain.‘

The stranger sa id , and turned away.

Anthemion sought the plane -grove ’s sha d e.’

Twas near the closing hour of d ay.

The slanting sunbeam’

s gold en ray,

Tha t through the massy fiolia g e madeScarc e here and thu s a passage , playe d

Even on the rocky cham el throwingThrou gh the clear flood its golden gleam .

The bright waves dance d beneath the beamTo the music of their own swe et flowing.

The flowering sa llows on the bank,Benea th the o’

ersha dowing plau e~trees wrea thing

In swe et assoc ia tion , drankThe gratefu l moisture , round them bre athingSoft fragranc e through the lonely wood .

There, where the mingling foliage woveIts close st bower, two altars stood ,

‘The plane was sa cred to the Genius . as the oak to

iter , the olive to Minerva , the m to the Mos es.

myrtle and rose to Venus , the urel to Apollo . the

ash to Mars , the be ech to Hercules , the pine to Pan.

the fir and ivy to Ba cchus , the cypress to Sylvanusthe cedar to the Eumenides , the yew and poppy to

Cem , etc .

‘I swear to yon ’

. saysyew

Socrate s m the

PM of Pla to,‘by any one of the gods, if you will

b y this plane

RHODODAPHNE

This to the Genius of the Grove,That to the Nai ad of the Flood .

So light a breath was on the trees ,That rather like a Spirit’s sighThan motion of an earthly breeze ,Among the summits broad and highOf these ta ll planes its whi spers stirredAnd save tha t gentlest symphonyOf air and stream

,no sound was heard ,

But of the solita ry bird,That aye , at summer

’

s evening hour ,

When music save her own is none ,A ttunes ,

from he r invisible bower ,Her hymn to the descending sun.

Anthemion paused upon the shoreA ll thought of magic’s impious lore,A ll dr ead of evil powers , combinedAga inst his peace, a ttempted illWith that sweet scene and on hi s mindFair , gra ceful , gentle, radiant still,The form of tha t strange damsel cameAnd something like a sense of shameHe felt , as if hi s coward thoughtFoul wrong to gu ileless beauty wrought.At length Oh radiant girl he sa id ,

If in the ca use tha t bids me treadThese banks , be mixed injurious dreadOf thy fa ir thoughts , the fears of loveMust with thy injured kindness pleadMy pa rdon for the wrongful deed .

Ye Nymphs and Sylvan Gods , tha t roveThe precincts of this sacred woodThou , Achelous

’ gentle daughter ,

Bright Na iad of this beauteous wa terAnd thou , my Na tal Genius good 1Lo w ith pure hands the crystal floodCollecting, on these altars blest,

2 19

220 RHODODAPHNE

Libation holiest , brightest, best ,I pour. If round my footsteps dwellUnholy sign or evil spell,Receive me in your guardian swayAnd thou , oh gentle Naiad bearWith thi s false flower those spells away ,

If such be lingering there ’

Then from the stream he turned hi s vi ew,

And o’

e r his back the flower he threw.

Hark l from the wave a sudden cry ,

Of one in la st extremity ,

A voice as of a drowning maidThe echoes of the sylvan shadeGave response long and drear .

He starts he does not turn . Aga inIt is Calliro

‘

é’

s cry I In vainCould that dear ma iden’s cry of pa inStrike on Anthemion’s ear ?

At once , forgetting all beside ,He turned to plunge into the tide ,But all aga in wa s stillThe sun upon the surface brightPoured his last line of crimson light ,Half- sunk behind the hillBut through the solemn plane- trees pa stThe pinions of a mightier blast ,And in its many- sounding sweep ,

Among the folia ge broad and deep ,

A e rial voices seemed to sigh ,

A s if the spirits of the groveMourned , in prOphetic sympathyWith some disastrous love.

CANTO III

BY living streams , in sylvan shades ,

Where winds and waves symphonious make

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222 RHODOBAPHNE

The contrast of a sce ne so g ayAnd from the walls he turned away.

To where , in distant moonlight pure .Mou nt Helicon'

s conspicuous heightRose in the dark-blue vault of night .Along the solitary roadAlone he went ; for who but heOn tha t fa ir night would absent b eFrom Thespis

'

s j oyous revelry ?The sounds that on the soft a ir flowed

By slow d e grees in d istanc e d ied :

And now he climbed the rock’s steep side ,Where frowned o’er sterile regions wideNeptunian Ascra

’s ruined tower ‘:

Memorial of gigantic power :But thoughts more dea r and more refinedAwakening, in the pensive mind ,

Of him, the Muses’ gentles t son,

The shepherd-ba rd of Helicon.

Whose song,to peace and wisdom clear ,

The Aonian Dryads loved to hea r.

By Aganippe’

s founta in-waveAnthemion passed the moonbmms fellPale on the darkness of the cave.Within whose mosey rock-hewn cellThe sculptured form of Linus stood .

Prime val bard . The Nymphs for himThrough every spri ng, and mounta in flood .

‘Ascra dm ve d its name from a umph , of whomNeptune w as enamou red . She bore a son named(Eoclus , who built Ascra in conjunction with the

ge nts Ophus and Ephialtes“who were also sons oftune , by Iphimed ia , the wi

mentions. tha t nothing but a solitary towe r of Amwa s rema ining Stra bo describe s it as

having a loftyand rugged site . It was the birth-

placeof Hesiod 0 gives a

mggd isma l pictu re of it.

RHODODAPHNE 223

Green vale, and twilight woodland d im,

For Linus when , in minstrel strife ,Apollo’s wra th from love and lifeThe child of music swept.The Muses’ grove is nigh. He treads

Its sacred precincts . O’

er him spreadsThe palm’

s a erial canopy,That, nurtured by perennial springs ,Around its summit broad and highIts light and branchy foliage fling s ,Arching in graceful symmetry.

Among the tall stems ja g g‘

d and bareLuxuriant la urel interweavesAn und ersha d e of myriad leaves ,

Here black in rayless masses , thereIn partial moonlight glittering fairAnd whereso

’

er the barren rockPeers through the grassy soil , its rootsThe swee t andrachne stri kes , to mock 1

Sterility, and profusely shootsIts light boughs , rich with ripening fru its .

The moonbeams , through the chequering shade,Upon the silent temple played ,

The Muses ’ fane. The nightinga le,Those consecrated bowers among

,

Poured on the air a warbled ta le ,So sweet, that scarcely from her nest,Where Orpheus’ hallowed relics rest ,She breathes a sw ee ter song 2.

1 The andrachne ’

, says Pausanias , grows abunantly in Helicon, and bears fru it of incomparablewe etness

’ —Plin says , It rs the same plant which rs

a lled in Latin i le c e b ra : it grows on rocks , and is

a the re d for food .

’

[Pliny , Natura lHistory, xxv,2 Itwas sa id by the Thracians , tha t those nightingales

224 RHODODAPHNE

A scene , whose power the maniac senseOf passion’s w ild est mood mi Ht own !Anthemion felt i s influence

And health and bloom returned to blessHis dear Calliroé , and the grovesAnd rocks where pastora l Ladon rovesBore record of their blissful loves .

List I there is music on the windSweet music seldom morta l ea rOn sounds so tender , so refined ,

Has dwelt . Perchance some Muse is near,Euterpe , or Polymnia bright ,Or Erato , whose gentle lyreResponds to love and young desireIt is the centra l hour of night :The time is holy ,

lone , severe ,And morta ls may not linger here 1Still on the a ir those wild notes fling

Their a iry spells of voice and string,

In sweet accordance , sweeter madeBy response soft from caverned shade .He turns to where a lovely gladeSleeps in the open moonlight’s smile ,A na tura l fane , whose ample boundThe palm’

s columnar stems surround ,

A wild and sta tely peristyleSave where their interrupted ringBends on the consecrated cave ,From whose dark arch , with tuneful wave ,

Lib ethru s issues , sacred spring .

Beside its gentle murmuring ,

which had their nests about the tomb of Orphe u s , sangmore sweetly and powerfully than any others .

Pausanias , 1, ix.

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3 3 6 RHODODAPHNE

Oh radiant maid lBut Thespis

‘s rites its u se forbade,

To Love's vindic tive power profane

Whose voice reb uked , with words severe ,Its beauty’s secret b u e

’

.

‘The world , oh youth l deems many wise ,

Who dream at noon with waking eyes ,

Phantoms of unexisting thingsWhose truth is lies , whose pa ths are error,Whose gods are fiends , whose hea ven is terrorAnd su ch a slave ha s been with thee ,And thou . in thy simplicity ,

Hast deeme d his idle sayings truth.

The flowe r I gave thee , thankless youth !The harmless flower thy hand rej ected ,Was fair : my native river se es

Its verdure and its bloom reflectedWave in the eddies and the breeze .My mother felt its beauty

’s cla im,

And gave, in sportive fondness wild ,

Its name to me , her only child’.

Then Ruononapnns is thy nameAnthemion sa id the ma iden be ntHer head in tok en of ass ent.

Say once aga in , if sooth I deem,

Peneus is thy na tive streamDown Pindus ' ste ep Peneus falls .

And swift and clear throug h hill and daleIt flows , and by Larissa

’

s walls ,

And through wild Tempe , loveliest valeAnd on its ba nks the cypress gloomWaves round my fa ther

’

s lonely tomb .

My mother’

s only child am I’Mid Tempe's sylvan rocks we dwe llAnd from my earliest infancy

,

RHODODAPHNE 227

The darling of our cottage - dellFor its bright leaves and clusters fa ir,My namesake flower has bound my ha ir.

With costly gift and fla ttering song,Youths , rich and valiant, sought my love.They moved me not. I shunned the throngOf suitors , for the mounta in-groveWhere Sylvan Gods and Oreads rove.The Muses , whom I worship here ,Had brea thed their influence on my being,Keeping my youthful spirit clearFrom all corrupting thoughts , and freeingMy footsteps from the crowd , to trea dBeside the torrent’s echoing bed ,’Mid wind- te st pines , on steeps aerial ,Where elementa l Genii throwEfflu enc e of na tu res more etherealThan vulgar minds can feel or know.

Oft on those steeps , at earliest dawn,The world in mist beneath me lay,

Whose vapoury curta ins , half withdrawn ,

Revea led the flow of Therma’

s b ay,

Re d with the na scent light of d ayTill full from A thos ’ distant heightThe sun poured down his golden beamsSca ttering the mists like morning dreams ,

And rocks and lakes and isles and streamsBurst , like crea tion ,

into light.In noontide bowers the bubbling springs,In evening va les the winds that sighTo eddying rivers murmuring by ,

Have heard to these symphonious stringsThe rocks and caverned glens reply.

Spirits tha t love the moonlight hourHave met me on the shadowy hillDream’

st thou of Magic of the powerThat makes the blood of life run chill,

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z 3 0 RHODODAPHN5

Wi th sudden start of gentle forc eFrom Rhododaphne's arms he sprung .'And swifter than the torrent’s courseFrom rock to rock in tumult flung .

Adown the steeps of Helicon .

By spring. and cave. and tower , he fle d ,

But turned from Thespis 's wa lls , and on

Along the rocky way, tha t ledTow

’

rds the Corinthian Isthmus . sped .

Impati ent to behold ag a inHis cottage -home by Lad on'

s side .And her. for whose dear sake his brainWas giddy with foreboding pa in ,

Fairest oi Ladon’s virgin tra in ,

His own long-destined b ride.

CANTO W

M ore and mystery, spells Circazan.

The Siren voice , tha t calmed the sea ,

And ste eped the sou l in dews Lethe a nThe enchanted chalice , sparkling freeWi th wine. amid whose ruby glowLove couche d, with ma dness linked and

Mantle and zone , whose woof b enea thLurked wily grace, in subtle wrea thWith b landishment and you ng des ireAnd soft persua sion intertwined .

Whose touch , with sympa thetic fire .

Could melt a t once the sternest mindHave passed away for ve stal TruthYoung Fancy’s foe . and Reason chill.Have chased the dreams tha t cha rmed theOf na ture and the world , which still ,Amid tha t vestal light se vere .Our colder spiri ts leap to hear

RHODODAPHNE 3 3 1

Yet deem not so. The Power of SpellsStill lingers on the earth , but dwellsIn deeper folds of close disguise ,That bame Rea son’s searching eyesNor shall tha t mystic Power resignTo Truth’s cold sway his webs of guile ,Till woman’s eyes have cea sed to shine ,And woman’s lips have ceased to smile ,And woman’s voice ha s ceased to beThe earthly soul of melody.

A night and d ay had passed awayA second night. A second d ayHad risen. The noon on va le and hillWas glowing, and the pensive herdsIn rocky pool and sylvan rill

The shadowy coolness sought. The birdsAmong their lea fy bowers were still ,Save where the red -brea st on the pine ,In thickes t ivy

’

s sheltering nest,A ttuned a lonely song divine,To soothe old Pan’s meridian rest 1.The stream’

s eterna l eddies playedIn light and music on its edgeThe soft light a ir sca rce moved the sedgeThe bees a plea sant murmuring madeOn thymy bank and flowery hedgeFrom field to field the grasshopperKept up his j oyous descant shrillWhen once aga in the wanderer,With arduous travel faint and pale,Beheld his own Arcadian vale.From Oryx , down the sylvan way,

With hurried pace the youth proceeds .

1 It was the custom of Pan to repose from the cha set noon .

—Theocritus , I d I .

2 3 3 RHODODAPHNE

Sweet Lade n's waves beside him stra y

Se em, whispering on the margin clea r .

The doom of Syrinx to rehearse ,

La d onian Syrinx, name most dea rTo munc and a alian verse .

It is the Aphrodisian grove.Anthemion's home is near. He seesThe light smoke rising from the treesTha t sha de the dwelling of his love.Sa d bodings , shadowy fears of ill.Preme d heavie r on him, in w ild strife

With many-wandering h0pe , tha t stillLeave s on the darkest clou ds of lifeSome vestige of her rad ia nt way .

But soon those torturing struggles end

For where the poplar silver- grayAnd dark aa ociate cedar blendTheir hospitable shade , be foreOne human dwelling’s well-known door,

Old Phe id ou sits , and b y his sideHis only child , his age’s bride,Herself , Anthemion

’

s destined bride.She hears his coming trea d. She flies

To mee t him. Hea lth is on her chee ks .

And pleasure sparkles in her eyes.And the ir soft light a we lcome speaksMore eloquent tha n words. Oh. j oy 1The maid he left so fafi comuming ,

Whom dea th , impa tient to d a troy,

Had marked his prey, now rosy-blooming ,

And beaming like the morning starWith loveliness and love , has flownTo welcome him : his eares fly far,Like clouds when storms are overb lown ;For whe re such perfe ct transpa ts re ig nEven memory has no place for pain .

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2 34 RHODODAPHNE

And evermore , the more it g ives ,Itself abounds in fuller measure .

Old Phe id on fe lt his heart expandWi th j oy that from their joy had birth ,

Is here, and mighty on the earthIs he . the primog enial power ,

Whose sacred grove and antique fa nsThy prompted foots teps , not in vain .

Have sou ght ; for, on the d ay and hou rOf his incipient rite, most strangeAnd su dden was CallirOE's chang e.The sickness under which she bowed.Swiftly, a s though it ne’er had been,Passed , like the shadow of a clou dFrom April

's hills of gre en.

And b liss onc e more is yours ; and

In seeing yours , and more than thisFor ever, in our children

'

s bliss ,

The sun of our past youth doth shineUpon our ag e anew. DivineNo less than our own Pan must beTo u s Love’s bounteous d e ityAnd round our old and ha llowed pineThe myrtle and the rose must twine,Memori al of the Thespia n shrine ’

.

’

Twas strange indeed ,

Tha t , in the hour when omens dreadMost tortured him, such change wasBut love and hope the ir lustre ShedOn all his visions now . and le d

Of fea rs whi ch that strang e damse l woveAround him in the Thespian fane

Eve came , and twilig ht’

s balmy hourAlone, benea th the cedar bow er.

RHODODAPHNE 2 3 5

The lovers sa te , in converse dearRetracing many a backward year,Their infant sports in field and grove,Their mutual tasks , their dawning love,Their mingled tears of past distress ,Now all absorbed in happinessAnd oft would Fancy interveneTo throw, on many a pictu red sceneOf life’s untrodden path , such gleamsOf golden light, such blissful dreams ,

A s in young Love’s enraptured eyeHope a lmost made reality.

So in that dear accustomed shade ,With Ladon flowing at their feet ,Together sa te the youth and ma id ,

In that uncerta in shadowy lightWhen d ay and darkness mingling meet.Her bri ght eyes ne’er ha d seemed so bright,Her sweet voice ne’er ha d seemed SO sweet,A s then they seemed . Upon his neckHe r head was resting , and he r eyesWere ra ised to hi s , for no disguiseHe r feelings knew untaught to check ,

A s in these days more worldly w ise,The heart’s best purest sympathies .

Fond youth her lips are near to thineThe ringlets of her temples tw ineAga inst thy cheek oh 1 more or lessThan mortal wert thou not to pressThose ruby lips Or does it d

'

wellUpon thy mind , that fervid spellWhich Rhododaphne brea thed uponThy lips erewhile in HeliconAh ! pause , rash boy ! bethink thee yet :And canst thou then the charm forgetOr dost thou scorn its import va inA s vision of a fevered bra in

3 36 RHODODAPHNE

Oh ! he ha s kissed Calliroé’s lips !

And with the touch the ma id g reW pale ,

And sudden shad e of strange eclipseDrew o

’er her eyes its d usky veil.

As droops the meadow-

pink its he ad ,By the rud e scythe in summer’s primeCleft from its parent stem, and spreadOn earth to wither ere its time,Even so the flower of Lad on fa ded .

Swifter than , whe n the sun ha d shade dIn the young storm his setting ray,

The western rad ianc e dies away.

He pressed her heart : no pu lse was there .

No brea th was in them. Wild despa irCame on him, as , with sudden waste ,

When snows dissolve in vernal rain,

The mounta in- torrent on the plainDescends and with tha t fea rful swellOf pass iona te grie f , the midn

'

g ht spellOf the Thessalian ma id re curred,Distinct in every fa tal word

Thme lips a re mine ; the spells ha vethem,

Which round and round thy soul I twineAnd b e the kiss l print upon themPoison to all lips b ut mine !

’

-'

Oh,thou art dead, my love l

'

, he cried‘Art d e ad . and I have murd ered the e l

’

He sta rted up in agony.

The beauteou s ma iden from his sideSunk down on earth. Like one who sleptShe lay, still, cold , and pale of hueAnd her long hair all low ely swept

The thin grass. wet with evening dew.

He could not we ep b ut ang uish burnedWithin him like consuming flame .

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3 3 s RHODODAPHNE

The hard by old Cephisus'sid e‘,

While not with sad der , swe eter tong u e.

Man’s happiest lot is nor‘to us

And when we tread life’s thorny ste ep,

Most ble st are they. who. earliest fre e .

Descend to dea th's eternal sle ep'

.

Long, wide, and far. the you th has strayed ,

Forlorn, and pale. and wild with woe .

And found no rest. His loved . lost ma id .

A beaute ous . sadly-smiling shade.Is ever in his thoughts , and slowRoll on the hopeless . a imless hours .

Sunshine , and gram , and woods , and flowers ,

Of busy men, where'er he roams ,

Torment his sense with contrast keen ,

Of tha t which is . and might have b een.

The mist that on the mounta ins highIts transient wrea th light-hovering d ings.The cloud s and changes of the sky,

The forms of unsubstantial things ,

The voice of the tempestuous gale ,The ra in- swoln torrent's turbid moan ,And every sound tha t seems to wailFor bea uty past and hope o

'

erthrown,

Attemper with his wild despa irB ut scarce his restless eye ca n bea rThe hills , and rocks . and summer stre ams .

The things that still are wha t they w ereWhen life and love were more than dreams .

l Sophocles Mi) fi rs t 760 d r amXb ar. To f1ra oa r

-ii, Bfirm “700 60a r ep fir es. I]Ge l/rep”. da rdxm a . This was a very favourite sentiment aniong the Greeks . The same thought occ ursin Ec os iasus . iv. 2 , 3 .

RHODODAPHNE

It chanced , al ong the ru gged shore,Where giant Pelion’s piny steepO

’

erlooks the wide E g ean deep ,

He shunned the steps of humankind,Soothed by the multitudinous roarOf ocean , and the cea seless shockOf spray, hi gh- sca ttering from the rockIn the wa il of the many-wandering wind,A crew, on lawless venture bound ,Such men as roam the sea s around ,

Hearts to fear and pity strangers ,Seeking gold through crimes and dangers ,Sa iling near , the wanderer spied .

Sudden, through the foaming tide ,They drove to land , and on the shoreSpringing, they seized the youth , and boreTo their black ship , and spread aga inTheir sa ils , and ploughed the billowy main.Dark Ossa on their wa tery way

Looks from his robe of mist and , grayWith many a deep and shadowy fold ,The sacred mount , Olympus old ,

Appears but where with Therma’

s se a

Peneus mingles tranquilly,

They anchor with the closing lightOf d ay, and through the moonless nightPropitious to their lawless toil,In silent bands they prowl for Spoil.Ere morning dawns , they crowd on board,

And to their vessel’s secret hoardWith many a costly robe they pa ss ,And vase of silver , gold , and brass .

A young ma id too their hands have tornFrom her materna l home , to mournA far , to some rude master sold ,The crimes and woes that spring from gold.

There sit -c ried one in rugged tone,

240 RHODODAPHNE

Beside tha t b oy. A well-ma tche d pa irYe seem , and will, I doubt not, bea r.In our good port a value rare .

There sit, but not to wa il and moa nThe lyre , which in those fingers fa irWe leave, whose sound through night's

shadeTo unwished ears thy haunt b ewrayed .

Strike : for the lyre , by bea uty played .

To glad the hearts of men was ma de ’

.

The damsel b y Anthemion'

s sideSate down upon the deck. The tideBlushed with the deepening light of m m .

A pitying look the you th forlornTurned on the ma iden. Can it beOr does his sense play fa lse Too we ll

He knows that radiant form.

'

Tis she ,

The magic ma id of Thw aly.

’

Tis Rhododaphne ! By the spell.Tha t ever round him dwelt , opprest,He bow ed his hea d upon his breast.And o

'

er his eyes his ha nd he drew.

Tha t fa tal beauty‘s sight to shun .

Now from the ori ent heaven the sunHad clothed the eastward waves with fireRight from the west the fa ir breeze blewThe full sa ils swelled . and sparkling throughThe sounding sea . the vesse l flew :

With wine and copious che er. the crewCaroused the damsel o’er the lyreHer rapid fingers lightly flung,And thus , with feigned obedience , sung .

The Nere id's home is calm and brig ht,The ocean-depths below,

Where liquid streams of emerald lightThrough caves of coral flow.

She has a lyre of silver strings

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RHODODAPHNE 243

Roared the pira te- crew, despairing,Plunged amid the foaming tide.Through the azure depths they flittedDolphins by transforming fateBut the god the pilot pitied ,

Saved , and made him rich and grea t

The crew laid by their cups and frowned .

A stern rebuke their lea der gave .With arrowy speed the ship went roundNymphze um. To the ocean-waveThe mounta in- forest sloped , and castO

’

er the white surf its massy shade .They heard , so near the shore they past ,The hollow sound the se a -breeze made ,A s those primeva l trees it swayed .

Curse on thy songs ! the leader cried ,

Fa lse tales of evil augury lWell hast thou sa id the ma id replied ,

They aug ur ill to thine and theeShe rose , and loosed her radiant ha ir ,

And raised her golden lyre in air .

The lyre, benea th the breeze’

s wings ,As if a spirit swept the strings ,Brea thed airy music , sweet and strange ,In many a wild phantastic change .Most like the daughter of the Sun 1

She stood her eyes all radiant shone

1,

The child ren of the Sun were known by the

splendour of their eyes and hair. Ilaa a. yepfieMov yevei)dpldnhos lGéaOa c, Her é1rel flke cpdpwv d r ornkéflt papyapwfiawOlav éKxpva éwv dv

'

rcbmov lea av a tykqm—Apollonius, IV , 727.

And in the Orphic Argonautics Circe is thus describedex 6

’

dpa. n iv'

res 96443 603! e la opéww er d fl'b Icpa'

rés yep wecpa t

Iv e afis dxr lrea aw dM'

yxwL ficbpnv'

ro' Er i

'

kfie Gé k ahd

wpéswr a , ¢7\o'

yos 6’

d r ékayr ev d iirnfi.

RHODODAPHNE

With beams unutterably b ri ghtAnd her long tresses loose and light.As on the playful bree ze they rolle d .

Flamed with rays of burning goldHis wondering eyes Anthemion ra isedUpon the maid : the seamen gaze dIn fear and strange suspense , ama zed .

From the forest-depths profou ndBrea thes a low and su llen sound’

Tis the woodland spirit’

s sig hEver heard when storms are nig h .

On the share the surf tha t breaksWith the rising breezes mak esMm'

e tumultuous harmony.

Louder ye t the breez es singRound and round , in d izzy ring .

To the sea-blast s murmuring.

Far and wide on sand and shing leEddying breakers boil and mingleBee tling cliffs and caverned roc kRoll around the echoing shock ,

Where the spray , like snow~d ust whirled ,

High in vapoury wrea ths is hurled .

Clouds on clou ds , in volumes driven ,

Curtai n round the vault of hea ven .

‘To shore ! to shore l

’ the seamen cry .

The damsel waved her lyre on hig h.And , to the powers tha t rule the se a ,

It whispered notes of witchery.

Swifter than the lightning-flame

The sudden brea th of the whirlwind came .

Round at once in its mighty swe epThe vessel whirled on the whirling deep.

Right from shore the driving ga leBends the mast and swells the sa il :

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246 RHODODAPHNE

Of wa ters bursting on the deck ,

Are in Anthemion’s ear no moreHe hears or sees but round his neckAre closely twined the silken ringsOf Rhododaphne’s glittering ha ir ,

And round him her bright arms she flings ,

And cinctured thus in loveliest bandsThe charmed waves in sa fety bearThe youth and the enchantress fa ir ,

And leave them on the golden sands .

CANTO VI

Ha sr thou , in some sa fe retrea t ,Waked and wa tched , to hear the roarOf breakers on the wind-swept shoreGo forth at morn. The waves , that bea tStill rough and whi te when blasts a re o

’

e r,

May wa sh , all ghastly, to thy feetSome victim of the midnight storm .

From that drenched garb and pa llid formShrink not but fix thy gaz e and se e

Thy own congenial destiny .

For him , perhaps , an anxious w ifeOn some far coast o’

erlooks the waveA child , unknowing of the strifeOf elements , to whom he gaveHis last fond kiss , is at he r brea stThe skies are clear, the seas at rest-Before her , and the hour is nighOf his return but black the skyTo him, and fierce the hostile ma in ,

Have been. He will not come aga in.

But yesterday , and life , and hea lth ,

And hope , and love , and power , and wea lth ,

Were his to- d ay,in one brief hour ,

Of all his wealth , of a ll his power ,

RHODOB APHNE

He saved not , on his sha ttered deck ,

A plank , to waft him from the wreck .

Now turn away , and d ry thy tears ,

And build long schemes for distant years !Wreck is not only on the sea .

The warrior dies in victoryThe ruin of his natal roofO

’

e rwhe lms the sleeping man the hoofOf his prized steed has struck with fateThe horseman in his own home ga te :The fea st and mantling bowl destroyThe sensua l in the hour of joy.

The bride from her paternal porchComes forth among he r ma ids the torch,That led at morn the nuptia l choir ,

Kindles at night her funeral pyre.Now turn away , indulge thy dreams ,

And build for distant years thy scheme s l

On Thracia ’

s coast the morn was gray.

Anthemion , with the opening d ay ,

From deep entrancement on the sandsStood up . The magic ma id was thereBeside him on the shore. Her handsStill held the golden lyre her ha irIn all its long luxuriance hungUnring lete d , and glittering brightWith briny drops of diamond lightHe r thin wet garments lightly clungAround her form’

s rare symmetry.

Like Venus risen from the seaShe seemed so bea utiful and whoWith morta l sight such form could view

,

And deem that evil lurked beneathWho could approach those starry eyes ,

Those dewy cora l lips , that breatheAmbrosia l fragrance , and that smile

247

RHODODAPHNE

In which all Love’s Elysium lies ,

Who this cou ld see , and dream of gu ile ,And b rood on wrong and wrath the while

If there b e one , who ne‘er has felt

Resolve, and dou b t, and anger melt,Like vernal night-frosts. in one beamOf Be auty

's sun,

’twe re va in to deem ,

Between the muse and him could b e

In keen reproach for all his woesAnd his Calliroé

’

s doom. In vainFor closer now the magic cha inOf the inextricable spe llInvolved him, and his acce nts fellPerplexed , confused , inaudi b le.And so awhile he stood . At length ,

In painful tones . tha t ga there d strenWith feeling’s faster flow , he saidWha t would’st thou with me , fa ta l

Tha t ever thus , by land and sea .

Thy dangerous beauty follows me

She speaks in gentle acc ents low ,

While d im through tears her brightThou askest wha t thou we ll dost

I love thee , and I see k thy love ’

.

My love 1 It sleeps in dust forWithin my lost Calliroé

's tomb

The smiles of living beauty neverMay my soul’s darkness re~illum

°

n e

We grew together, like twin flowers ,

Whose opening buds the same dews cherishAnd one is reft , ere noon- tide hours ,

Violently , one rema ins , to pe rishBy slow deca y : as I rema inEven now, to move and b rea the in vain.

The la te. false love, tha t world ings lea rn,

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ssa RHODODAPHNE

Words have no power to speak and thou

Where fa d ed and d efiled they lieAnd close them in their bud agam ,

And b id them to the morning skySpread lovely as at first they wereOr from the oak the ivy tear.And wrea the it round another treeIn vita l growth then turn to me ,

And b id my spirit cling on thee ,As on my lost Calliroé

The Genii of the ea rth , and sea ,

And air. and fire , my manda tes hear.

Even the dread Power, thy Lad on’

s fear ,

Arcadian Da ma g orgon. knows l

1 The dreaded name of Dwmogorgon'

is familia r toevery reader , in Milton’s enumeration of the Powers ofChaos .

1 Mythologic a l writers in general afiord b ut

li ttle informa tion concerning this terrible Divinity.

He is incidentally mentioned in several places b yNatalis Comes , who says , in trea ting of Pan. thatPronapid el , in his Protocosmus , makes Pan and thethree sister Fa tes the oflspring of De mog orgon.

Bocca ccio. in a La tin tre a tise on the GeGods , gives some account of him on thTheod otion and Prou apid es . He was the Genius ofthe Earth ,

and the Sovereign Power of the Terre strialDe mons. He dwe lt orig ina lly with Eternity and

Chaos . till , becoming weary of inaction . he nined

the cha otic elements . and surrounded the wi ththe hea ve ns . In addition to Pa n and the Fa tes . hischildren were Uranus ,

Tite n. Pytho . Eris . and Ere b us .

This awful Power was so sa cred among the Arca dians ,tha t it was held impious to pronounce his name. Theimpiou s. however , who made les s scruple about

pronou ncing it, are sa id to have fou nd it of grea tvirtue in magi cal incanta tions . He has been suppose d

[‘Pc ra d iu Lor i , u .

RHODODAPHNE 251

My voice the ivy or the rose ,Though torn and trampled on the pla in ,

May rise , unite, and bloom again ,I f on hi s a id I call thy heartAlone res ists and mocks my art

Why lov’st thou me , Thessalian ma id

Why hast thou , cruel beauty , tornA sunder two young hearts ,

that playedIn kindred unison so blest ,A s they ha d filled one single breastFrom life’s first opening mornWhy lov’

st thou me The kings of earthMight knee l to charms and power like thineBut I , a youth of shepherd birthA s well the stately mountain-pineMight coil around the eglantine ,As thou thy rad i ant being twineRound one so low , so lost as mine

Sceptres and crowns , va in signs that moveThe souls of slaves , to me ar e toys .

I need but love : I seek but loveAnd long, amid the heartless noiseOf cities , and the woodland pea ceOf vales , through a ll the scenes of GreeceI sought the fondest and the fa irestOf Grecian youths , my love to beAnd such a heart and form thou bearest ,And my soul sprang at once to thee ,Like an arrow to its destiny.

Yet shall my lips no spell repeat ,

0 be a philosophica l emblem of the principle of'

eg eta b le life. The silence of mytholog ists concerningim can only be a ttributed to their venera tion for hisdreaded name a proof of genuine piety which muste plea sing to ou r contempora ry Pagans , for someuch there are .

252 RHODODAPHNE

To b id thy hea rt responsive bea tTo mine : thy love's spontaneous smile,Nor force d b y power. nor won b y g uile ,

I cla im : but yet a little while ,

For I must find a drea ry M e ,

And thou , where’er thou wilt. shal t roam

But shou ld one tend er thought awak eOf Rhododaphne , se ek the c ell,Where she dissolved in tears doth dwe llOf blighted hope , and she will takeThe wande rer to her b rea st, ,

and ma keSuch flowe rs of bliss arou nd him blow .

As kings would yield their thrones to know'

—‘It must not b e . The air is lad en

Wi th swe e tne ss from thy presence bornMusic and lig ht are round the e, ma id en,As round the Virgin Power of MomI fee l, I shrink beneath thy beauty :

But love , truth , woe . rememb rance. duty ,

All point aga inst thee , though arraye dIn charms whose powers no heart could shunTha t ne’er had loved another maidOr any b ut tha t loveliest one.Who now, within my bosom

’

s void .

A sa d pale shade. by the e destroyed ,

Forb ids a ll other love to bindMy soul : thine lea st of woma nkindFalter-ing and fa int his acc ents broke .

As those concluding words he spoke .

No more she sa id ,but sadly smiled ,

And took his hand ; and lik e a child

He followed her. All waste and wild ,

A pathless moor be fore them lies .

Beyond , long chains of mounta ins riseTheir summits with eternal snowAre crowned vast forests wave be low,

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RHODODAPHNE

Tow’

rd s tha t fa ir pile. With gentle stress

He strikes the ga te of polished brass .

Loud and long the porta l ring s ,A s back with swift recoil it swing s,Disclosing wid e a vaulted ha ll,With many columns bright and tallEncircled . Throned in order round ,

Sta tues of d e mons and of kingsBetween the marble columns frownedWith seeming life ea ch throne beside,Two humbler sta tues stood , and ra isedEach one a silver lamp , that wideWith many mingling radiance blaz ed.

High- reared on one surpassing throne,A bra zen image sa te a lone ,A dwarfish shape of wrinkled brow,

With sceptred hand and crowned hea d.No sooner d id Anthemion’s treadThe echoes of the hall awake,Then up tha t image rose , and spake,A s from a trumpet Wha t wouldst thanAnthemi on , in amaze and drea d ,

Replied With toil and hunger worn,I seek but food and rest till mornThe image spake aga in , and saidEnter fea r not thou art freeTo my best hospita litySpontaneously, an inner door

Unclosed . Anthemion from the hallPa ssed to a room of sta te, tha t woreA spect of destined festival.Of fragrant cedar was the floor,And round the light-pilastered wallCurta ins of crimson and of goldHung down in many a gorgeous fold.

Bright lamps , through that apartment g ayAdorned lik e Cytherea ’

s bowers

RHODODAPHNE

With vases filled with odorous flowe rs .

A banquet’s sumptu ous order there ,In long array of viands there ,Fruits , and ambrosial wine, was spt

A golden b oy, in semblance fa irOf actual life, came forth, and ledAnthemion to a cou ch , ba ide

With cloth by subtlest Tyria n dyed .

And ministe re d the feast : the while,Invisible harps symphoniou s wrea thedWild webs of sou l- dissolving sou nd .

And voices , alterna ting round.Songs , as of choral ma idens , brea thed .

Now to the br im the boy filled upWith sparkling wine a crysta l cup .

Anthemion took the cup, and quafied ,

With reckless thirst ,Tha t instant came a voice divine ,A ma id en voice : ‘

Now art thou mineThe gold en b oy is gone . The song

And the symphonious ha rps no moreTheir syren-minstrelsy prolong.

One crimson curta in waves be foreHis sight, and opens . From its screen .

The nymph of more tha n w thly mien .

The ma gic ma id of Thessaly,Came forth, her tresse s loosely streaming ,

Her eyes with dewy radiance beaming ,Her form all grac e and symmetry ,

In silken vesture light and freeAs if the woof were air, she came ,And took his ha nd and calle d his name .

—'Now art thou mine ! ’

a ga in she cried

My love’s indissoluble cha in

Has found thee in tha t goble t’s tide .

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258 RHODODAPHNE

Persuasion , bliss , the bounteous sire

In hopes , and toils , and pains , and fe a rs ,

Sole dryer of our human tea rsChief ornament of heaven, and kingOf ea rth , to whom the world doth singOne chorus of accordant plea sure ,

Of which he taught and lea ds the me asure.He kindles in the inmost mindOne lonely d ame—for once—for one

A vestal fire , which , there enshrined ,

Lives on , till life itself be done .All other fires are of the ea rth ,

And transient but of heavenly birthI s Love’s first flame , which howsoeve rFraud , power , woe , chance , or fa te , may severFrom its congenia l source , must burnUnquenched , but in the funeral u rn.

And thus Anthemion knew and felt ,As in that palace on the wild ,

By daemon art adorned , he dweltWith that bright nymph , who ever smiledRefulgent as the summer mornOn eastern ocean newly born.

Though oft , in Rhododaphne’

s sight,A phrenzied feeling of delight ,With pa inful admiration mixedOf her surpassing beauty , cameUpon him , yet of ea rthly flameTha t passion wa s. Even as betwixtThe night- clouds transient lightning s pla y,

Those feelings came and passed away ,

And left him lorn . Ca lliroé everPursued him like a bleeding shade ,Nor all the ma g ic nvmph

’

s endeavourCould “t memory sever

lid .

RHODODAPHNE 259

Yet a ll tha t love and art could d oThe enchantre ss d id . The pirate -crewHer power ha d snatched from death, and pentAwhile in ocean’s borderi ng caves ,

To be her ministers and slavesAnd there, by murmured spells , she sentOn a ll their shapes fanta stic change.In many an uncouth form and strange ,Grim dwarf , or bony E thiop tall ,They plied , throughout the enchanted hall ,Their servile mini stries , or sateGigantic mastifls in the gate ,Or stalked around the garden- dellsIn lion- guise , gaunt sentinels .

And many blooming youths and ma ids ,A joyous Bacchanal ian tra in ,

(Tha t’mid the rocks and piny shades

Of mounta ins , through whose wild doma in(Eagrian He b ru s , swift and cold ,

Impels his waves o’e r sands of gold ,

Their orgies led ) by secret forceOf her far- sca ttered spells compelled ,

With song , and dance , and shout , their courseTow

’

rd s that enchanted dwelling held .

Oft,’mid those palace- gardens fa ir

The beauteous nymph (her radiant ha irWith mingled oak and vine- leaves crowned)Would grasp the thyrsus ivy-bound ,

And fold , her festa l vest around ,

The Bacchic nebris , leading thusThe swift and diz zy thiasusAnd as she moves , in all her charms ,

With springing feet and flowing arms ,’Tis strange in one fair shape to se e

How ma ny forms of grace can be .The youths and ma ids , her beauteous tra in ,Follow fast in sportive ring,

260 RHODODAPHNE

Some the torch and mystic cane,Some the vine-bough brand ishingSome in giddy circle ts flee ting ,

Maid s , with silver flasks ad vancing ,Pour the wine’s re d -sparkling tide,Which you ths , with hea d s re cumbentCa tch in goblets as they glide .

All upon the odorous airLightly toss their lea fy ha ir,Ever singing. as they move,

Io Bacchus ! son of Jove !And oft, the Ba cchic fe rvour ending ,

Among thes e garden-b owers they stra y,

Dispm ed , where fragrant branchesExclude the sun's meridian ray,

Or on some thymy bank repose,By which a tingling rivulet flowsWhere birds , on each o'ershad owmg

The while . in one sequestered eave,Where ros es round the entrance wave,And jasmine sweet and clustering vineWith flowers and g rapes the arch o

'

Anthemion and the nymph recline,While in the sunny spa ce. b e foreThe cave, a founta in

’

s lucid storeIts crysta l column shoots on high ,

And bursts , like showery diamonds flSo falls , and with melodious dashingShakes the small pool. A youth standsA tuneful rhapsodist , and sings ,

Aoc ordant to his chang eful stri ngs ,High stra ins of ancie nt poesy.

And oft her golden lyre she takes ,And such transcendent stra ins awakes ,Such floods of melody as steep

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262 RHODODAPHNE

Of undiscovered gold , and where ,

In subterranean sepulchres ,The memory of whose place doth be a rNo vestige , long- forgotten kingsSit g u ant on monumenta l thrones,With massy pearls and costly stonesHanging on their half-mouldered bone s )Were slaves to her . The fears and c a re s

Of feebler mortals—Want , and Woe

His daughter , and their mutual childRemorseless Crime—kee n Wrath , tha t tearsThe brea st of Hate unreconciledAmbition’s spectra l goad—Revenge ,That finds consumma tion foodTo nurse anew her hydra brood ,

Shame , Misery’

s sister—drea d of change,

The bane of wealth and worldly might,

She knew not Love alone , like ocea n ,

Filled up w ith one unshared emotionHer soul’s capacity but rightAnd wrong she re ek ed not of , nor owne dA law beyond her soul’s desireAnd from the hour tha t first enthronedAnthemion in her heart, the fire ,

Tha t burned w ithin her lik e the forceOf floods swept with it in its courseAll feelings tha t might barriers proveTo her illimitable love.Thus wrea thed with ever-varying flow ers ,Went by the purple-pinioned hoursTill once , returning from the woodAnd woodland chase , at evening- fall ,Anthemion and the enchantress stoodWithin the many- columned hall,Alone. They looked around them. WhereAre all those you ths and maidens fair ,

Who followed them b ut now P On high

RHODODAPHNE 263

She waves her lyre. Its murmurs d ieTremulous. They come not whom she calls .

Why starts she Wherefore does she throwAround the youth her arms of snow,

With passion so intense , and weepWha t mean those murmurs , sa d and low ,

That lik e sepulchral echoes creepAlong the marble wa llsHer brea th is short and qu ick I and , d imWith tears , her eyes are fixed on himHer lips are quivering and apartHe feels the fluttering of her hear tHer face is pale. He ca nnot shunHer fea r’s conta gion. TenderlyHe kissed her lips in sympa thy

»~

And sa id Wha t a ils thee , lovely oneLow , trembling , fa int , her accents fallLook round what seest thou in the hall

Anthemion look ed , and made return :The sta tues , and the lamps that burn

N0 more Yet look aga in ,where late

The solitary image sate ,The monarch- dwarf. Dost thou not se eAn image there which should not be

'

Even as she bade he looked aga inFrom his high throne the dwarf was gone .Lo I there, as in the Thespian fane,Uranian Love ! His bow was bentThe arrow to its head was drawnHis frowning brow was fixed intentOn Rhododaphne. Sca rce d id restUpon that form Anthemi on’s view ,

When , sounding shrill , the arrow flew ,

And lodged in Rhododaphne’s breast.It was not Love’s own sha ft , the g iverOf life and joy and tender flameBut. borrowed from Apollo’s quiver,

264 RHODODAPHNE

The dea th-direc te d arrow came.Long, slow, distinc t in each stern word .

With impious spe lls ha st thou profa nedMy altars and a ll-ruling Jove.Though late, yet certa in , has unchaine dThe vengeance of Uranian Love 1 IThe marb le pala ce burst asunder,

Riven b y subterranean thunder.

Sudden clouds around them rolled ,

Lucid vapour, fold on fold .

Then Rhododaphne clmer prestAnthemion to her b leed ing breas t ,As , in his arms upheld , her hea dAll languid on his neck reclinedAnd in the curls tha t overspreadHis cheek, her temple ringlets twinedHer d im eyes drew, with fading sight.From his the ir last refle cted light.And on his lips , as na ture fa iled ,

Her lips their la st swee t sighs exha led .

Farewell l -she sa id another b rid eThe partner of thy days must be :But do not ha te my memory :And bu ild a tomb by Lad on’

s tide.To her , who , fals e

‘

in all beside.Was but too tru e in loving the e lThe quivering fi rth beneath them stirred .

In dizzy trance upon her bosomHe fe ll , as falls a wounded birdUpon a b roken rose’s blossom.

‘The la te b u t certa in veng eance of the 5. occurs

in many forms as a sente nce among classic alwriters ; and is the subj ect of an interesti

ndia log ue.

among the mora l works of Plutarch, whi concludes

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RHODODAPHNE

In seeking , na ture’

s empire through,Devices ever rare and new,

To mak e him ca lm and blest.Two ma ids had loved him one, the lightOf his young soul, the morning starOf life and love the other , brightAs are the noon- tide sk ies , when farThe vertie sun’s fierce radiance burnsThe world ha d been too brief to proveThe measure of each single love :Yet, from this hour , forlorn, bereft,Compassionless, where

’er he turns ,Of all that love on earth is leftNo trace but their cinerea l urns .

But Phe id on’

s door unfolds and whoComes forth in bea uty Oh I

’

tis she ,

Herself, his own Ca lliroeAnd in that burst of blest surprise,Like Lethe’s self upon his bra inOblivion of all grief and pa inDescends , and tow

’

rd s her path he flies.

The ma iden knewHer love, and flewTo meet him, and her dear arms threwAround his neck, and wept for bli ss ,And on his lips impressed a kissHe ha d not dared to give. The spellWas broken now, that gave beforeNot death , but magic slumber . MoreThe closing mea sure needs not tell .Love, wonder , transport wild and high,Question that wa ited not reply,

And answer unrequired , and smilesThrough such sweet tears as bliss beguiles ,Fixed , mutual looks of long delight,Soft chiding for o

’

erha sty flight,

And promise never more to roam,

THE GREY FRIAR

Were theirs . Old Phe id on from his homeCame forth, to share their joy, and blessTheir love, and a ll wa s happiness .

But when the ma id Anthemion ledTo where her beauteous rival sleptThe long la st sleep , on earth dispread,And told her ta le , Calliroe weptweet tea rs for Rhododaphne’s doomFor in her hea rt a voice was heard

’

Twa s for Anthemion’s love she erred lThey built by Lad on’

s banks a tombAnd , when the funeral pyre ha d burned ,With seemly rites they there inurnedThe a shes of the enchantress fa irAnd sad , sweet verse they traced , to showThat youth , love , beauty , slept below ;

And bade the votive marble bearThe name of RHODODAPHNE . ThereThe laurel- rose luxuriant sprung,And in its boughs her lyre they hung,And often ,

when, at evening hours,They decked the tomb w ith mournful flowers ,The lyre upon the twilight breezeWould pour mysterious symphonies .

FROM NIGHTMARE ABBEY, I 8 I 8

THE GREY FRIAR

WHY are thy looks so blank, g rey friarWhy are thy looks so blue

Thou se em’

st more pale and lank, g rey friar,Than thou wa st used to doSay , wha t ha s made thee ru e

Thy form w a s plump , and a light d id shineIn thy round and ruby face,

267

268 NIGHTMARE ABBEY

Which showed an outward visible signOf an inward spiritual g raceSay, what has changed thy case

Yet will I tell thee true , grey friar,I very well can see ,

That , if thy looks are blue, grey friar ,

’

Tis all for love of me ,

’

Tis all for love of me .

But brea the not thy vows to me , grey friar ,

Oh, breathe them not , I prayFor ill beseem in a reverend fri ar,The love of a morta l mayAnd I needs must say thee nav.

But could’st thou think my heart to moveWith that pa le and silent scowl

Know, he who would win a ma iden’s love ,Whether clad in cap or cowl,Must be more of a lark than an owl .

SONG BY MR CYPRESS

THERE is a fever of the spirit ,The brand of Ca in’s unresting doom ,

Which in the lone dark souls that bear itGlows like the lamp in Tullia ’

s tomb .

Unlike the lamp ,its subtle fire

Burns , bla sts , consumes its cell, the heart.Till, one by one , hope , j oy , desire ,Like dreams of shadowy smoke depart.

When hope , love , life itself, a re onlyDu st—spectra l memories—d ea d and cold

The unfed fire burns bright and lonely,Like tha t undying lamp of old

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270 THE ROUND TABLE

THE ROUND TABLE

OR, KING’S ARTHUR

’

s ra a sr

INTRODUCTION

King Arthur is sa id to have disappeared a fter thebattle of Camlan , and to have never been seen aga in ;which gave rise to a tradition , that he ha d beencarried away by Merlin , a famous prophet and ma g icianof his time , and would return to his kingdom at somefuture period —The Welsh continued to expect him for

many hundred years ; and it is by no means certaintha t they have entirely given him up . He is hererepresented as inhabiting a solita ry island , under theinfluence of the prophet Merlin by whose magic powerhe is shown a ll the kings and queens who have sat onhis throne since his dea th, and giving to them a grandfea st , at his old established round table , a ttended bytheir princ ipa l secreta ries , dukes , lords , a dmirals ,generals , poets , and a long tra in of courti ers . The

kings are of course mentioned in the order of succession. The a llegory is illustrated a s concisely as

ossib le in the notes . So many histories of Englandcing published for the u se of young persons , we haveonly attached the names of the kings ,

and to suchinstances a s might not be considered sufi c ientlyexplana tory.

KING A RTHUR sat down by the lonely se a - coast,A s thin as a lath, and a s pale as a ghostHe looked on the east , and the west, and the south,

With a tear in his eye , and a pipe in hi s mouthAnd he sa id to old Merlin , who near him d id sta nd,Drawing circles , triangles , and squares on the sa nd,Sure nothing more dismal and tedious can b e ,

Than to sit a lways smoking and wa tching the sea :

Say when shall the fates re establish my reignAnd sprea d my round- table in Brita in aga in

THE ROUND TABLE 27 :

Old Merlin replied By my art it appears .

Not in less than three hundred and seventy yearsBut in the meantime I am very well ableTo spread in this island your ancient round tableAnd to grace it with guests of unparalleled splendour,I’

ll summon old Pluto forthwith to surrenderAll the kings who have sat on your throne , from the d ayWhen from Camlan’

s destruction I snatched you away

King Arthur’s long face , by these accents restored ,Grew a s round as his table , a s bright a s his swordWhile the wand of old Merlin waved over the ocean ,

Soon covered its billows with‘

brilliant commotionFor ships of all ages and siz es appear ing ,Towards the same shore were all rapid ly steering ,Came cleaving the billows w ith sa il and with oar ,

Ya cht , pinna ce, sloop , frigate, and seventy- four.

King Arthur scarce spied them a far from the land,Ere their keels were fixed deep in the yellow sea - sandAnd from under their canopies , golden and g ay,

Came kings , queens , and courtiers , in gallant array,

Much musing and marvelling who it might be,That wa s smoking his pipe by the side of the seaBut Merlin stepped forth with a greeting right wa rm

,

And then introduced them in order and form.

The Saxons 1 came first , the preeminence cla iming,With scarce one among them but Alfred worth

naming.

Full slyly they looked upon Canute 2 the bold ,And remembered the drubbing he gave them of old

1 The Saxons invaded England , and dispossessed theBritons . The most famous of the Saxon kings wasAlfred .

2The Danes , under Canute, conquered the Saxons .

The sons of Canute died without children , and the

government returned to the Saxon kings.

27: THE ROUND TABLE

Sad Harold l came last ; and the crown which he woreHad b e en b roken. and trampled in dust and in gore.

Now the sun in the wes t ha d gone down to repose,When before them at once a pavilion aroseWil e -

e Arthur ’3 round table was royally spread ,And £11a with lamps , purple. yellow, and re d .

The sme ll of roa st b e e f put them all in a foment,

So they scrambled for se a ts . and we re ranged in a

moment.

The Conqueror ? stood up, as they thought to saygrace

But he scowled round the board with a resolute fac eAnd the commny stared , when he swore by the fates.Tha t a list he wou ld have of their name s and esta tes " ;And lest too much liquor their bra ins should inspireTo se t the pavilion and table on fire ,

gohe counselled right well.he tinkled his bell ‘.

His speech was cut short by a general dismayFor William the Second 5 ha d fa inted away,Atjthe smell of some New Fore st Venison o b e fore himBut a tweak of the nose , Arthur said , would restore him.

But another disturbance compelled him to markThe pitiful smte of poor Henry Be a uclerk 7

The last of the Saxon kings was Harold II who waskilled in the battle of Hastings , when Wi lliam. Dukeof Normand ned a de c is ive victory.

zW illiam t Conqueror .

3 Doomsd a Book .

The curfew. William Ru fus .

“Accidenta lly killed by an arrow while hunting in

the New Forest .7Henry I Bea uclerk.

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3 74 THE ROUND TABLE

Whose pilgrim'

s array told the tale of his te llsHa lf-ve iling his arms and his Sara cen spoils

l

As b e sliced up the venison of merry Sherwood .

He told a long story of bold Robin Hood‘,Which gave good King Arthur such hearty delight,Tha t he vow’

d he’d make Robin a round- table knight;While Me rlin to fetch Robin Hood was prepa ring.John Lackland3 was blustering , and vapou ring , and

swearing ,

And seemed qu ite determined the roast to b e ruling‘

But some stout fellows near him prepared him a c ooling ;Who seized him, and held him, nor gave him release.Till he signed them a bond for preserving the peace

‘.

While Henry the Third“, dull. contemned . and for

Sat stupidly silent , regaling on Baum".The First of the Edwa rds3 charmed Arthur with talesOf fighting in Pa lestine , Sc otland , and Wale s’

But Merlin asserted his angry reg ards ,Recollecting how Edward ha d trea ted the Ba rds”.The Sec ond“, whose days in aflliction had ru n”.Sat pensive and sad

’twixt his father and son.

1 Returned in a pilgrim'

s d i sg u

from his wars in the olyLand.9 In his time lived Robin Hood . the celebra ted rob b erof Sherwood Forest.

King John . surnamed La ckland .

Ambiti ous of absolute power.

7 Forced by his barons to sign Magna Charta .

Henry I I I of Winchester.

7 A weak and foolish king, in whose reig n lived

‘5Edwa rd I . Lon hanks . Ga ined many victories.

“’Mamacred the e lsh Bards .

11 Edward I I of Caerna rvon.

7“Murdered by his Wife's knowledge in B e rkeleyCastle .

THE ROUND TABLE 275

But on the Third Edward1 resplendently glanceThe blazons of knighthood , and trophies of France2 ;Beside him his son in black armour appears ,

Tha t yet bears the marks of the field of Poictiers 3

From the festival’s pomp , and the table’

s array ,

Pa le Richard of Bourdeaux 4 turned sadly awayThe thought of tha t time his remembrance appa ls ,

When Famine scowled on him in Pomfret’s dark wa lls 5

Beside him sat Bolingbroke6, gloomy and stern ,

Nor dared his d ark eyes on his victim to turn 7,The wrinkles of care o’

er his features were spread ,

A nd thorns lined the crown tha t encircled his head 3 ,But Harry of Monmouth 9 some guests ha d brought in.

Who drank so much liquor , and made such 3 .

(While Arthur full loudly his mirth d id discloseA t Falsta ff’s fat belly and Bardolph’s red nose)That he turned them all out w ith monarchica l pride ,And la id the plumed cap of his revels aside ,A nd put on the helmet, and breastplate , and shield ,Tha t d id such grea t service on Agincourt’s field 11.

1 Edward I I I .

2 Conquered France in‘

conjunction with his son,the

Bla ck Prince.3 The Battle of Poictie rs .

4 Richard I I of Bourdeaux.

5 Killed in Pomfret Castle . 6Henry IV , Bolingbroke.7 Obta ined the crown by rebelling aga inst Richard I I .

8 Was miserable a ll his reign .

9 Henry V of Monmouth .

1° Le d a very dissolute life while Prince of Wa les ,

and kept a set of drunken companions , to whomSha k espeare has given the names of Fa lsta ff , Bardolph ,

etc .

11 Disca rded them when he came to be king . And

ga ined grea t victories in France , particularly thea ttle of Agincourt .

3 76 THE ROUND TABLE

And now rang the tent wi th unusual alarms ,For the white and red roses were calling to arms 7

Confusion and tumult established the ir reign,

And Arthur stood up, and called silence in va in.

Poor Harry the Sixth hustled , beaten , and prest.

Ha d his nosegay of lilies ’ soon torn frm his b reast ;And , though Ma rgare t, to shield him. ha d c lasped him

around ‘.From her arms he wa s shaken , and hurled to the

grou nd‘

While Edward of York 0 flourishe d over his he a dThe rose’s pa le blossoms , and trampled the re dThough Warwick strove vainly the ill to repa ir ,

And set fallen Henry a ga in on his cha ir .

The children 7 of Edward stood up in the fra y .

But, touched by cruel Richard 8, they vanished away.

Who. knowing none loved him, resolved all shou ld fearhim

And there fore knocked every one down who wa s nearhim ,

‘The civil wars of York and Lancaster , of which

1

tive parties the white a nd red roses were the

ems .

3 Henry VI of Windsor .

I

s

mst themdfumof Fra

fice .

upport ne en arg aret.

5 Overcome by the !'ork party, andin the Towe r.

Edwa rd W . raised to the throne hy the a id of the

Earl of Warwick who a fterwardsEdward , and endeavoured to restore b u t without succ ess.

7 Edward V and his brother, the Duke of York, diedwhile children , 81) ed to have be en murdTower by order their uncle Richard .

7 Richard II I , a cruel and sang uinary tyrant.

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278 THE ROUND TABLE

But he struggled his horror and rage to repress ,

And sought consola tion from worthy Queen Bess ‘,Who had brought Drake and Ra leigh her sta te to

susta in”,With American spoils and the trophies of Spa inWhile Shakespeare and Spenser

- 3. with song and with

fable,Enchanted King Arthur and all round his ta b le .

Now the First of the James'

s‘compla ined of the

hea t,And se emed ill at ea se on his rick ety seat

Itproved , when examined (which ma de them all stare),A gunpowder barrel instead of a chair 5.The First of the Charle s’s ° was clearing the dishes.

Takingmore than his share of the loaves and the fishes 7.Not minding at all what the company sa id,When up started Cromwell , and sliced off his head

O

Eliza be th. A wise and fortu na te queen.

9 Her a dmirals , among whom were Sir Franc is Drakeand Sir Wa lter Raleigh, sa ile d round the world , settle dcolonies in North America , defea ted the SpanishArmad a , etc.

3 In her reign lived many eminent authors . partiocularly Shakespeare and Spenser.

{ames the First.he Gun

powder Plot, sth November, 1605.

Charles7 Overstra ined his prerog ative ; encroache d on the

liberti es of the people , and on the privilege s ofment. The consequence was a civi l war and e lessof his head .

3 The commonwea lth succe eded , at the head ofwhi ch was Oliver Cromwell. He was succe ed e d b y hisson Richa rd , who was displaced by the res toration ofCharles I I .

THE ROUND TABLE 279

Charles the Second l , enraged at the villanous deed ,Tried to turn out Old Cromwell , but could not succee d,But he mastered you ng Dick , and then cooled his own

wra thIn syllabub , trifle, and fila gre e broth

”.

James the Second 3 , with looks full of anger and

gloom,

Pronounced nothing good but the cookery of Rome 4 ;So begged of King Arthur , his clear royal crony,To make all the company eat macaroni 5

But Arthur bade Mary an orange present6,

At which James grew queasy , and fled from the tent.So she placed on his sea t honest William 7

, her spouse,And with laurel and olive encircled his brows 3

\e th of glory and pea ce, by young Freedom en

twined ,And gave him a key to the lock 9 of the mind.

Now as Arthur continued the party to scan,He d id not well know wha t to make of Queen Anne 1°

But Marlborou gh 11 , he saw , d id her credit uplift,

1 Charles I I .

2 A frivolous and dissolute king.

3 James I I .

4 A bigoted Roman Ca tholic.5 Used violent measures to establish that religion inugland .

6Was obliged to fly the country ; and the crowndevolved to his daughter Mary, and he r husband ,William , Prince of Orange .

7William I I I .

His reign w as distingu ished by foreign victoriesand domestic prosperity .

9 By being the origin of the present form of theEu lish constitution , in the glorious revolution of 1688an; by the life and writings of the philosopher Locke.

10 Anne .11 Her genera l, the Duke of Marlborough. ga ined

several grea t victories in France.

280 FROM MA ID MARIAN

And he heartily laughed at the jokes of Dean Swiftl .Then shook hands w ith two Georges ,

2 who near himwere sea ted ,

Who closed in his left, and the circle completedHe liked them both well, but he frankly avert e d ,

He expected to prove better plea sed with the Third.

FROM MAID MARIAN, 1 822

THE BRAMBLE

THE bramble , the bramble , the bonny forest bramble ,Doth

’

make a j estOf silken vest,

That will through greenwood scrambleThe bramble , the bramble , the bonny forest bramble.

The courtly pa d doth amble ,When his g ay lord would ramble

But both may ca tchAn awkward scra tch

I f they ride among the brambleThe bramble , the bramble , the bonny forest bramble.

MICHAEL ’

S FROCK

BUT wherefore doth the sheep wear wool ?Tha t he in season sheared may be ,

And the shepherd be warm though his flock b e cool :50 I

’

ll have a new cloak a boutme .

1 Many eminent literary characters flourished in hertime , particularly Swi ft and Pepe .

2 The House of Hanover : George 1, Georg e I I ,

Georg e I I I .

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282 FROM MA ID MARIAN

A GREENWOOD TREE

FOR the slender beech and the sapling oa k ,

Tha t grow by the shadowy rill ,You may cut down both at a single stroke,You may cut down which you will.

But this you must know, tha t as long a s theygrow

Whatever change may be,You never can tea ch either oak or beechTo be aught but a greenwood tree .

MATILDA AND THE FRIAR

M ati ld a The love that follows fa inWill never its fa ith betrayBut the fa ith tha t is held in a cha inWill never be found aga in,I f a single link give w ay .

Friar For hark hark hark lThe dog doth bark ,

That watches the wild deer’s la ir .

The hunter awakes at the peep of theBut the la ir it is empty , the deer it isAnd the hunter knows not where.

Both tog ether Then follow, oh follow ! the b ounds

do cryThe re d sun flames in the eastern skyfi The stag bounds over the hollow.

He that lingers in spirit , or loiters in hall,Shall se e u s no more till the evening fa ll

,

And no voice but the echo shall answer his call :Then follow , oh follow , follow :

Follow, oh follow , follow !

THE PROUD SHERIFFE 28 3

he Friar Though I be now a grey , grey friar ,

Yet I wa s once a hale young knightThe cry of my dog s wa s the only choirIn which my spirit d id take delight.

Little I reek ed of matin bell,But drowned its toll with my clang ing horn

And the only beads I loved to tellWere the beads of dew on the spangled thorn.

Iati ld a L ittle I reck of matin bell ,But drown its toll with my clanging horn

And the only beads I love to tellAre the beads of dew on the spangled thorn.

he Friar An archer keen I wa s withal ,A s ever d id lean on greenwood tree

And could make the fle etest roebuck fa ll,A good three hundred yards from me .

Though changeful time , with hand severe,Has made me now these joys forego,

Yet my hea rt bounds whene’er I hear

Yoicks hark away and tally ho !

THE PROUD SHERIFFE

A STAFF , a stafl, of a young oa k gra ff,That is both stoure and stifl,

I s a ll a good fria r can needs desireTo shrive a proud sherifle .

A nd thou , fine felldw e , who ha s tasted so

Of the forester’s greenwood game,Will be in no haste thy time to wasteIn seeking more ta ste of the same

Or this can I read thee , and riddle thee well,Thou hadst better by far be the devil in hell ,Than the she rifl of Nottinghame .

3 3 4 FROM MAID MARIAN

TO BATTLE

DRINK and sing, and ea t and laugh,

And so go forth to b attle :

For the tOp of a skull and the end oi a stafl

Do mak e a ghostly rattle.

THE HERMIT’

S CELL

FOR I must se ek some hermit ce llsWhere I alone my bea ds may tell.And on the wight who tha t way fa res

Levy a toll for my ghostly pray'rs .

BOLD ROBIN HOOD

On, bold Robin Hood is a forester good ,

As ever drew b ow in the merry greenwood :At his bugle's shrill sing ing the echoes are ring ing ,

The wild d ee r are spring ing fm many a rood :

Its summons we follow, through brake . ove r hollow.

The thrice -blown shrill summons of bold Rob in Hood.

And wha t eye ha th e’

er see n such a swe e t Ma iden

Queen.As Marian. the pride of the forester

’

s gre enA sweet garde n flower , she blooms in the b ow .

Whe re alone to this hour the wild rose has b e en

We ha il her in d uty the queen of all b eauty :

We will live , we will di e , b y our swe et hia id en Quem.

To ab solve all our sins as the case may re q uire ;

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286 FROM MA ID MARI AN

Now give me , I pray you , wine and foodFor none m I find in the good greenwood .

All on the fa llen leaves so b rown.

’

’

Good brother ’

, the y sa id ,

‘we would give you fu ll fain,

But we have no more than enough for twa in ,

Singing, hey down , ho down , down . derry down.

’

Then give me some money sa id bold Rob in Hood.For none can I find in the good greenwood ,

All on the falle n leaves so brown.

’

No money have we , good brother’

, said theyThen ’

, me he , we three for money will pray :

Singing , hey down, ho down, down. derry down :And wha tever sha ll come at the end of our prayer.We three holy friars will piously share ,All on the leaves so brown

We will not pray with thee , good Brother . God wot:

For truly, good brother. thou pleasest us not.Singing , hey down , ho d own , down , derry d own

Then up they both sta rted from Robin to run ,

But down on their knees Robin pulled them ea ch one ,All on the fallen lea ves so brown .

The grey friars prayed with a dole ful face.But bold Robin prayed with a right merry g ra ce ,

Singing , hey down , ho down down , derry downAnd when they ha d prayed , their portmantea u he took.And from it a hundred good angels he shook .

All on the fa llen leaves so brown.

The saints sa id bold Robin , have hea rk ened our

prayer.And here’s a good angel apie ce for your sha reIf more you would have , you must win ere you m t

Singing, hey down , ho down , down , derry down :

OVER , OVER 287

hen he blew his good horn with a musica l cheer,nd fifty green bowmen came trooping full near ,nd away the grey fra irs they bounded like deerAll on the fa llen leaves so brown.

THE JOLLY ROVER

OVER , over, over , jolly, j olly rover ,

Would you then come over Over , over, over PJolly, jolly rover, here

’

s one lives in cloverWho finds the clover ? The j olly, j olly roverHe finds the clover, let him then come over ,

The j olly, jolly rover , over, over , over.

OVER , OVER

A DAMSEL came in midnight ra in,And called across the ferry

The weary wight she ca lled in va in ,

Whose senses sleep d id bury.

At evening , from he r fa ther’s doorShe turned to meet he r lover

At midni ght , on the lonely shore ,She shouted , Over, over

She had . not met him by the treeOf their accustomed meeting ,

And sa d and sick at hea rt w as she ,Her heart all wildly bea ting.

In chill suspense the hours went by,

The wild storm burst above he rShe turned he r to the river nigh ,

And shouted , Over, over 1

A d im , discoloured , doubtful lightThe moon’s dark veil permitted

,

And thick before her troubled sightFanta stic shadows flitte d .

3 88 FROM MAID MARIAN

Her lover’s form appea red to glid e ,

And beckon o'

er the waterAlas ! his b lood that morn ha d dyedHe r brother’s sword with sla ughter.

Upon a little rock she stood ,To make her invoca tion

She marked not tha t the ra in- swoll’n floodWas islanding he r sta tion.

The tempest mock ed her feeble cryNo sa int his a id wou ld give he r !

The flood swe lled hig h and yet more high,

And swept her down the river.

Yet oft benea th the pale moonlight ,When hollow winds are b lowing .

The shadow of tha t ma iden brightGlides by the dark stream’

s flowing .

And when the storms of midnight ra ve ,While clouds the broad moon cover ,

The wild gusts wa ft across the waveThe cry of

‘Over, over l

’

THE FRIAR OF RUBYGILL

Ir was a friar of orders free ,A friar of Rub ygillAt the greenwood-tre e a vow made he,But he kept it very ill

A vow made he of cha stity ,

But he kept it very ill.He kept it, perchanc e , in the conscious shadeOf the bounds of the forest whBut he roame d where he listed ,

And he left his good vow in the

For its woods out of sight wereWith the friar of Ru bygi ll .

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PAPER MONEY LYRICS

Ye b asking s in the vernal sunYe slumbers in the summer dell

Ye trophies tha t this arm has wonAnd must ye hear your friar’s farewell

PAPER MONEY LYRICS

[Written in 1 825. A few of the Lyrics were publishedin the Gu id e newspaper in 1 8 3 7 , and the whole publishe d priva tely in tha t year] .

Fa lstafi Master Sha llow ,I owe you a. thousand

pounzd .

Sha llow Ye a ,marry, Sir John, whi ch I beseech

you to let me have home with me .—Shakespeare

[Henry I V , P art I I ,a ct V , 80. v, 11. 77

P erez : Who’s that is cheated E Spea k aga in , thouvision .

Ca cafogo I’

ll let thee pla inly know I ’m cheated d amnab ly.

—Beaumont and Fletcher [Ru le a Wife and Havea Wife , a ct V , sc . ii , 11. 22 ,

PREFACE

THESE Lyrics were written in the winter of 1 8 25- 26.

during the preva lence of an influenza to w hich thebeauti ful fabric of paper- credit is periodica lly subject ;whi ch is ca lled commercia l panic by citiz ens , financialcrisis by politicians , and d ay of reckoning by theprofane and which aflected all promisers to pay in

town and country with one of its most violent e pidemicvisita tions in December, 1 825. The Lyrics shadowou t, in their order, the symptoms of the epid emic inits severa l stages ; the infallible nostrums , remedialand preventa tive, proposed by every variety of thatarch class of qua cks, who ca ll themselvespolitica l economists the orders , counter-orders , and disorde rs , at the

PAN IN TOWN 29 1

head of afla irs , with respect to joint- stock banks, andthe extinction of all. und notes , inclusive of Scotland , and exclusive d cotland till the fina l patchingup of the uncure d malad y by a series of fa lse pallia tives ,

w hich only m il k“! for another eruption the seeds ofthe origina l d isease . The ta b es tacitis concepta me d u llishas aga in b lan d fa th in new varieties of its primitivetypes— broken promi ses and bursting bubbles . Per

sons and things are changed , but the substance is thesame and these little ballads are as applicable now as

they were twelve years a g o. They will be applicableto every time and place , in which public credulity sha llhave given temporary support to the sa fe and economica l currency,

which consists of a series of paperpromises , made with the delibera te purpose , that thepromise sha ll a lways be a payment , and the paymentsha ll a lways be a promise .

zo j u ly,1 8 3 7 .

PAN IN TOWN 1

(M etrum I thypha llicum cum anacrusi )

Fa lstafi If anymanwill caper withme for a thousandmarks ,

'

let him lend me the money, and have at him .

PAN AND CHORUS OF CITIZENS

The Country banks are breakingThe London banks are shakingSuspicion is awakingE

’

en quakers now are quakingExperience seems to settle,That paper is not metal ,

1 Pan , it may be necessary to tell the citizens , is theau thor of Panic Terrors The Cockney poet , whoentitled a poem The Universal P an ,

which began withNot in the town am I a most original demonstration of his universality ha s had a good opportunity ,

292 PAPER MONEY LYRICS

And promises of paymentAre neither food nor ra imentThen, since that , one and all, youAre fellows of no valueFor genius , learning, spirit.Or any kind of meritTha t morta ls ca ll substantial ,Excepting the financia l,(Which means the art of robbingBy huckstering and jobbing,And sharing g ulls and g udgeonsAmong muckworms and curmudgeons)Being each a flimsy funnyOn the stream of paper money,All riding by sheet anchors ,Of balances at bankersLook out for squalls are coming ,Tha t if you stand hum-drumming ,Will burst w ith vengeance speedy ,

And leave you like the needyWho have felt your clutches greedy

,

A11 beggarly and seedyAnd not worth a ma ravedi.

Chorus Our balances , our balances ,Our balances , our balancesOur balances we crave forOu r balances we rave forOu r balances we rush forOur balances we crush forOur ba lances we call forOur b alanc es we bawl for

since he wrote tha tIpoem , of seeing that Pan can b e in

town sometimes . erhaps , according to his Mlo y , the Pan in town was the Sylvan Pan a fas

'

on

abfie arrival for the season.

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294 PAPER MONEY LYRICS

Y’

ur fw tunee ne'er were ba tter.

There ’s too much popula tion ,

Tha t’s a’ tha t ails the na tion.

Ye’re only out o’ ha lth, sirs.

Wi’ a plathora o’ walth, sits .

Instead of g lourin’ hithe r,

Ye’d ba tter, I conjacture ,

Just hoot awa ' thegither.

To hear ou r braw chi e l le ctureHis ecoonoomic scienceWad silence a ’ your clanking.

An’ tea ch you some reliance ,On the principles 0

’ banking.

Chorus Our balances , our balances ,

Our balances , our bala nces .

Sir Roger Redne ss (banker) Be quiet. lads , and

steady.Suspend this idle racket ,

Your balances are ready.

Ea ch wrapped in separate packet.All ticke ted and d ocketed .

And ready to b e pocketed.

First Citi zen : As of cash you ’ve such a hea p , sir,My balance you may keep , sir ;

Have troub led you I shouldn’t .Except in the belief

Tha t you couldn’t pay or wou ldn ’ t . [Exit

Sir Roger Redne ss Now there’s a pretty thief.

(A scroll appears over a door)Ti ck, Nick , Ti ck , Trick, and Company.Are deeply grie ved to say.

They are under the necessityOf suspending for the d ay.

’

PAN IN TOWN 295

Se cond Citizen This evil I portended .

Third Citizen Now all my hopes are ended .

Fourth Citizen : I’m quite aground.

Fifth Citizen I’m all astound .

Sixth Citizen Would they were all suspende d.

Choru s Our balances , ou r balances ,

Ou r balances , ou r ba lances ,

Pay. pay. pay. pay.

Without delay ,

Lest ere to-morrow morningTo pot you go

Tick , Nick, and Co.

Have given u s all a warning .

Flimsy Kite Sirs , we must st0pWe shut up sh0p,

Thou gh assets here are plenty.

When up we’re wound ,

For every poundWe’ll pay you shillings twenty .

Seventh Citizen What a ssets , sir , I pray you

Sir Flimsy Kite Sir, quite enough to pay you .

Ei ghth Citizen May itpleas e you to saywhat , sir?

Flimsy Kite Good bills a monstrous lot,And Spanish Bonds a store , sirAnd Mining Shares still more , sirColumbian Scrip , and ChilianAnd Poya is ha lf a millionAnd wha t will make you sleek , sir,

Fine picking from the Greek , sir.

296 PAPER MONEY LYRI CS

Ninth Citizen I think it will appear, sir ,The grea test Gree k is here , sir.

Sentimental Cockney Oh how can Plutus deal soBy his devout adorer

Nervous Cockney This hubbub makes me feel so.

Fancy Cockney Now this I call a floorer.

Newspaper M an The respectable old firm,

(We have much concern in saying),Kite, Grub b ins , and Muckworm,

Have been forced to leave ofl paying.

Bystand er . The loser and the winner ,The dupe and the impostor,

May now go both to dinnerWith Humphrey , Duke of Glo

’

ster .

Lawyer That we the fruits may pocket ,Let’s go and strike a docket.

Chorus (d a capo) Our balances , our bala nces ,Our balances , our balances .

Roger Rednose Some are gone to-d ayMore will go to-morrowBut I will stay and pay,

And neither beg nor borrow,

Tick and Kite,That looked so bright,

Like champagne froth have flown , sirs

But I can tellThey both worked well

While well was let alone , sirs .

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298 PAPER MONEY LYRICS

Which they insta ntly proceeded to condemn, d emn,

domnBut said the Little Pen,

Use me like the Little Men,

And I’

ll make you as good money as I made for them

The seekers with long face s ,Returned upon their traces ,

They carried in the van the Little Pen, Pen , Pen

And they hung it on the wallOf their reverend Town-hall,

As an eloquent memoria l of the Little Men.

PROCEMIUM OF AN EPIC

WHICH WILL SHORTLY APPEAR IN QUARTO ,UNDER

TITLE OF

FLY-BY-NIGHT

By R. S Esq ,

1 Poet Laurea te.

His romises were, as he once was , mi hty ;And is performance, as he is now, not[Shakespea re Henry VI I I , a ct IV

, s c . ii , 41- 3

(Queen

How troublesome is d ay 1It ca lls u s from our sleep away

It bids u s from ou r pleasant d reams awake,And sends u s forth to keep or breakOur promises to pay.

How troublesome is d ayNow listen to my layMuch have I sai d ,Whi ch few have heard or read ,

And much have I to say,

1 Robert Southey.

PRE M I UM OF AN EPI C

Which hear ye while ye may.

Come listen to my lay,

Come , for ye know me , as a man

Who always pra ises , as he can,

All promises to pay.

So they and I on terms agree,And they but keep their fa ith with me ,

Whate ’er their deeds to others be,They may to the minutest particleCommand my fingers for an ode or article.

Come listen while I strike the Epic string,And , as a changeful song I sing ,

Before my eyesB id changeful Proteus rise ,

Turning hi s coa t and skin in countless forms and

Come listen to my lay,

While I the w ild and wondrous ta le array,

How Fly- b y

-Night went down ,

And set a bank up in a country townHow like a king his head he rearedAnd how the Coast of Cash he clearedAnd how one night he disappeared ,When many a scoffer j lb ed and j eeredAnd many an old man rent his beardA nd many a young man cu rsed and ra iledAnd many a woman wept and wa iledAnd many a mighty heart was qua iledAnd many a wretch wa s caged and gaoledBecause great Fly- b y

-Night had fa iled .

And many a miserable sinnerWent without his Sunday dinner,Because he had not metal bright,And waved in va in before the butcher’s sight ,The promises of Fly- b y

-Night.And little Jackey HornerSa te sulking in the corner,

299

3 00 PAPER MONEY Lware s

And in defa ult of Chri s tma s pieWhereon his little thumb to try.

He put his fing er in his eye .

And blubbered long and lustily.

Come listen to my lay,

And ye shall say,

Tha t never ta le oi errant knight,Or captive damsel bright ,Demon , or e lf , or goblin sprite ,Fierce crusade , or feudal fight,Or cloistral phantom all in white,Or castle on accessless height,Upreared by necromantic might.Was half so full of rare delight,As this whereof I now prolong.The memory in immortal songThe wild and wondrous tale of Fly-b y

-Nig ht.

A MOOD OF MY OWN MIND

OCCURRING DURING A GALE OP WIND AT M IDNIGHT.WHILE I WAS WRITING A PAPER ON THE CURRENCY.

av run LIGHT or rwo mou rn CANDLBS

By W. W . , Esq .1, Distr ibutor of Stamps .

Quid distent aera lupinis 2—Horace [Epistles r. vu .

MUCH grieved am I in spirit by the news this day's

post,Which tells me of the devil to paywith thehost

'

Tis feared that out of all their mass ofThe devil alone wi ll get his due he‘ll

day.

1 William Wordsworth.

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3 02 PAPER MONEY LYRI CS

The word of power up- blows the mill , the miller d is

appearsThe shattered fragments fall in showers about the in

tru d e r’

s earsAnd leave no trace to mark the pla ce of wha t appeared

so grea t,But shreds of rags , and ends of quills , and bits of cOpperpla te.

I love the paper money, and the paper money men ;

My hundred , if they go to pot, I fear would sink toten

The country squires would cry Retrench l and thenI might no doubt ,

Be sent about my business yea , even right about.

I hold the paper money men say truly, when they sayThey ought to pay their promises , with promises to

pay iAnd he is an unrighteous j udge, who says they shall or

may,

Be made to keep their promises in any other way.

The paper money goes about, by one, and two, and five,A circula tion like the blood , that keeps the land aliveIt pays the rent of country squires , and makes themthink they thrive,

When else they might be lighting fires to smoke theloyal hive.

The paper money goes about itworks extremely wellI find it buys me everything that people have to sell

Bread , beef, and breeches , coa ls and wine, and all goodthings in store ,

The paper monev buys for me and wha t could golddo more

A MOOD OF M Y M IND 3 03

T he promise works extremely well, so that it be butbroken

’

Tis not a promise to be kept, but a solemn type andtoken ,

A type of value gone abroad on travel long a g o

And how it’

s to come back aga in , God knows , I do notknow.

If ignorant impa tience makes the people run for gold ,

Wha tever ’

s left tha t paper bought must be put up and

soldIf so, perhaps they

’

ll put up me as a purchase of theCrown

I fear I shan’t fetch Sixpence, but I’m sure to be knock ’

d

down.

The promise is not to be kept, that point is very clear’

Twas proved so by a Scotch adept who dined with me

la st year ,

I wish , instea d of viands rare, which were but thrownaway,

I had dined him on a bill of fare, to be ea ten at Dooms

d ay.

God save the paper money and the paper money men

God save them all from those who call to have theirgold aga in

God send they may be always sa fe aga inst a reckoningi Ely ;

And then God send me plenty of their promises to pay

PAPER MONEY LYRICS

LOVE AND'

THE FLIMSIES

By T. M .

1, Esq .

O 6’ 'Epws, xrré‘

wa drive s‘Ti rép a i

’

lxéros IIAIITPflc—Anacreon.

LITTLE Cupid one d ay on a sunbeam was floa ting,

Above a green vale where a paper mi ll playedAnd he hovered in ether, delightedly notingThe whirl and the spla sh that the wa ter-whe e l made.

The a ir was filled with the scent of the roses ,

Round the miller’s veranda that clustered and twined ;And he thought if the sky were all made up of noses,This spot of the earth would be most to hi s mind.

And forth came the miller, a Quaker in verity ,Rigid of limb and complacent of face ,

And behind him a Scotchman was singing ProsperityAnd picking hi s pocket with infinite grace .

And Walth and prOSparity Wa lth and prosparitvHis bonny Scotch burthen arose on the a ir ,

To a song all in pra ise of that primitive cha rity,

Which begins with sweet home and which terminatesthere.

But sudden a tumult arose from a distance ,And in rushed a rabble with steel and wi th stone

And e re the scared miller could ca ll for assistance,The mill to a million of a toms was blown .

Scarce mounted the fragments in ether to hurtle ,

When the Quaker w a s vanished , no eye ha d seen

where

1 Thomas Moore.

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3 06 PAPER MONEY LYRICS

The wise men with the current went ,Nor paddle nor oar ha d they ,

And still as the grave they went on the wave,Tha t they might not disturb their prey .

Far, far at se a , were the wise men three ,When their fishing -net they threw

And at the throw, the moon belowIn a thousand fragments flew.

The se a was bright with a dancing lightOf a 'million gleams ,

Which the broken moon shot forth as soonA s the net disturbed her beams.

They d rew in their net it wa s empty and wet ,And they had lost their pa in ,

Soon cea sed the play of ea ch dancing ray,

And the image wa s round aga in.

Three times they threw , three times they d rew,

And all the while were muteAnd evermore their wonder g rew,

Till they could not but dispute.

Their silence they broke, and each one spokeFull long, and loud , and clear

A man at se a their voices threeFull three leagues off might hear.

The three wise men got home aga inTo their chi ldren and their wives

But, touchi ng their trip , and their net’

s vain d ip,

They d isputed all their lives .

The wise men three could never agree ,Why they missed the promised boon

THE WI SE MEN OF GOTHAM 3 07

They agreed a lone that their net they had thrown ,

And they ha d not caught the moon.

I have thought myself pale o’er this ancient ta le ,And its sense I could not ken

But now I se e tha t the wise men threeWere paper money men.

Ru b - a - dub- dub , three men in a tubIs a mystic burthen old ,

Which I ’ve pondered about till my fire went out,And I could not sleep for cold.

I now divine each mystic sign,

Which robbed me oft of sleep,Three men in a bowl, who went to troll,For the moon in the midnight deep .

Three men were they who science drankFrom Scottish founta ins free

The ca sh they sank in the Gotham bank,Was the moon beneath the sea .

The breaking of the imaged moon ,

At the fishing - net’s first splash ,

W as the breaking of the bank as soonA s the wise men cla imed their cash.

The dispute which lasted all their lives ,Was the economi c strife,

Which the son’s son’s son of every oneWill ma inta in through all his life.

The son’s son’s sons will b afl‘led be,As were their sires of oldBut they only a g ree, like the wise men three ,Tha t they could not get their gold.

3 03 PAPER MONEY LYRICS

And they’ll build systems dark and deep,

And systems broad and highBut two of three will never a g reeAbout the rea son why.

And he who at this d ay will seekThe Economic Club ,

Will find at lea st three sages there ,As ready as any that ever were ,To go to se a in a tub.

CHORUS OF BUBBLE BUYERS

When these practisers come to the la st decoction.

blow , blow, pufl, puff , and a ll flies in fumo. Poor

wretches I rather pity their folly and indiscretion.than their loss of time and money for these may b e

restored by industry but to be a fool born is a diseaseincurable —Ben Jonson , Volpone .

OH I where are the hopes we have met in the morning.A s we hustled and bustled around Capel Court

When we laughed at the croakers tha t bade u s take

warning ,Who once were ou r scorn , and now mak e u s their

sport.

Oh I where are the regions where well-paid inspe ctorsFound meta ls omnigenous strea ked and embossed

So kindly bought for u s by honest d irectors ,Who charged u s but three times a s much as they cost.

Oh where are the riches tha t bubbled like fou ntainsIn places we neither could utter nor spell,

A thou sand miles inland ,

’mid untrodden mountains.Where silver and gold grew like hea th and blu e-b ell ?

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3 08PAPER MONEY LYRI CS

A BORDER BALLAD

BY AN ENCHANTER UNKNOWN 1

THE Scot, to riva l rea lms a mighty b ar ,

Here fixed hi s mounta in home a wide doma in ,

And rich the soil, ha d purple heath been gra inBut what the niggard ground of wea lth denied ,

From fields more blest his fearless arm suppli ed .

L eyd e r

THE Scotts , Kerrs , and Murrays , and De lora ines a ]

The Hughies o’ Hawdon , and Wills- o’- the-Wa ll ,

The W illimond sw icks , and the hard- riding Dick s ,

A re staunch to the la st to their old Border tricksWine flows not from hea th , and bread grinds not fl

stone ,They must reeve for their living , or life they’

ll h

none.

When the Southron’s strong arm with the steel andlaw ,

Had tamed the moss- troopers , so bonny and brawThough spiders wove webs in the rusty sword-hilt ,In the niche of the ha ll which their forefa thers buYet with sly paper- credit and promise to pay,

They still drove the trade which the wise ca ll conv‘

They whitewa shed the front of their old Border toThey widened its Ioop-hole s , and opened its court

1 Sir Wa lter Scott .2 Stea l odious is the word—convey the wise it—Pistol. [The correct reading is Convey the wi :ca ll. Stea l l — foh l a fico for the phra s .4 ha

speare , M erry Wive s of Wind sor , a ct I , 3 0. iii, l. 3 :

ST PETER OF SCOTLAND 3 1 :

T hey put in sash-windows where none were before ,A nd they wrote the word B aNx o’er the new-pa inted

doorThe cross-bow and matchlock a side they d id lay,

A nd they shot the proud Southron with promise to pay.

T hey shot him from far , and they shot him from near ,

A nd they la id him as flat a s their fa thers la id deerTheir fathers were heroes , though some ca lled them

thievesWhen they ransacked their dwellings , and drove off their

beevesBut cra ft undermined what force battered in va in ,

And the pride of the Southron w a s stretched on the pla in .

Now j oy to the Hughies and Willies so boldThe Southron , like Dickon , is bought and is soldTo his goods a nd his chattels, his house and his land ,

Their promise to pay is as Harlequin’s wandA touch and a word , and pa ss , presto, begone ,The Southron has lost, and the Willies have won.

The Hughies and Willies may lead a glad lifeThey reap without sow ing , they w in without strife :The Bruce and the Wallace were sturdy and fierce ,But where Scotch steel was broken Scotch paper c an

pierceAnd the true meed of conquest our minstrels shall fixOn the promise to pay of our Willimond swicks.

ST PETER OF SCOTLAND

Si bene calcu lum ponas , ubique nau fragium e st.

Petronius [Satyri con, cxv ].

ST PETER of Scotland set sa il with a crewOf philosophers , picked from the Bluecap ReviewHis boa t was of paper , old rags were her freight ,And her bottom was shea thed with a spruce Copper

plate.

3 12: PAPER MONEY LYRICS

Her ma st was a quill , and to ca tch the fair galeThe broa d grey goose fea ther was sprea d for a sail ;So he ploughed his blithe way through the su rge and the

spray,

And the name of his boa t was the Promi se - tO-Pay.

And swiftly and gaily she went on her tra ck,A s if she could never be taken a -back ,

A s if in he r progress there never could b eA chop of the wind or a swell of the sea .

She was but a fa ir -wea ther vessel, in sooth ,

For w inds that were gentle, and wave s tha t weresmooth

She was built not for storm , she wa s armed not forstrife,

But in her St Peter risked fortune and life .

His fortune ,’

tis true , was but bundles of ra g ,

Tha t no pedlar, not Scotch , would have put in his b ag :The worth of his life none could know but the fewWho insured it on sa iling from Sweet Ed inb roo.

St Peter seemed da ft , and he laughed and he quafled ;But an ill-boding wave struck his vessel rig ht aftIt stove in his quarters and swamped his fra il boat,Which sunk with an eddy and left him afloa t .

He clung to his goose-quill and floated a ll night,And he landed at daybreak in pitiful plightAnd he prea ched a discourse when he rea ched the good

town ,

To prove tha t his vessel should not have gon e down.

The nautical science he took for his guideAllowe d no such force as the wind or the tideNone but blockheads could think such a scie nce o’erthrown ,

By the breath of a gale which ought not to have blown.

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3 14 PAPER MONEY LYRICS

Scotch logic floats on one-pound notesWhen rags are cash ou r shirts are ore

What else would go to scare the crow ,

Becomes a myriad pounds and more.

A scarecrow’

s suit would furnish forthA good Scotch bank’s whole stock in tra de

The w ig ,for coinage nothing worth ,

Might surplus capita l’ be made.

Oh happy land , by Scotchmen taughtThy fa te was then indeed divine ,When every scarecrow’

s pole wa s thoughtA true Rea l d el Monte mine.

Oh mystic ONE , that turned out NONE ,

When senseless pani c pressed thee hardWho thee could hold and call out GoldWould he had fea thered been and ta rred .

Thy little fly-wheel kept in playThe mighty money grinding millWhen thou art rashly torn away,

The whole ma chine will stand stock still .

The host of promisers to payTha t fill their jugs on credit’s hill ,Will ea ch roll down and crack his crown ,

As certa inly as Jack and Jill.

And we, God knows , may d ofl ou r hoseAnd sell our shoes for what they’re worth ,

And trudge again with naked toesBack to our land of Nod , the north.

For, should we stra in ou r lecturing throa ts ,

We mig ht to walls and doors discuss

CALEDONI AN WAR WHOOP 3 15

When John Bull sees through one-pound notes ,’

Tis very clear he’ll se e through u s .

That rare hotch-potch , the College Scotch,Rea red by ou r art in London town ,

Will be at best a standing jest ,At least until it tumbles down .

Of those d ay- dreams , our free trade schemes ,

That la id in sippets goslings green ,

The world will think less bra in than drinkIn skulls tha t ha tched them must have been .

Then farewell , shirts , and breeks , and coats ,Cloth , linen ,

cambric , silk, and lawnFarewell with you , dear one- pound notes ,Mac Banquo’s occupa tion’s gone .

The man who thr ives with tens and fivesMust have some coin , and none have we 1

Roast beef , adieu 1 come , barley brooOh hone- a - rie 1 Oh hone- a - rie

CALEDONIAN WAR WHOOP

By the Coa t of ou r House , which is an a ss rampant,I am ready to fight under this banner.

— Shad w e ll’sHumorists .

CHORUS OF WRITERS TO THE SIGNET

EH, la ird ! Eh, la ird an’

ha’ ye b a ird ,

Tha t we’re to ha e na e a e poond notsYe weel may say the Hooses twayWa d play the de’il w i ’ a ’ the Scots .

PAPER MONEY LYRICS

Ha ’ they na e fears when Scotland ’s tea rsFlow fas t as ony burnie , ohBut they shall find we’ve a ’ one mi nd

,

The mind of one a ttorney, oh

De’il take u s a’

if we can ca’

To mind the d ay wherein we gotThe id le croons o’ seely loonsIn ony medium but a not.

De’il take u s as we hop’ to beW i’ spoils 0’ clients bonny, ho !

If e’e r we look to touch a feeWhen there’s nae paper money, oh

Solo SIR MALACHI MALAGROWTHER

Quoth Hudibras— Friend Ralph , thou ha st

(Hunt’

s blacking shines on Hyde Park'

7waOUTRUN THE CONSTABLE at last ,For gold will still be lord of a ll.

The ups and downs of paper poun’

s

Have made the English weary ,oh

And’

tis their will old Scotland’s millSha ll e’en g a e tapsalteerie, oh

Old Scotland brags , she kens of ra gsFar more than a ll the world beside

He r ancient mint with naught else in’

t,

Is all her wealth, and power , and pride .He r ancient fla g is all a rag ,

So oft in battle bloody, ohNow well I thi nk her blood is ink ,

And rags her soul and body, oh

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PAPER MONEY LYRI CS

The English loons have silver spoons,And golden watches bonnie, oh lBut we’ll have nought tha t’s worth a groa t ,Without our paper money , oh I

GRAND CHORUS OF SCOTCHMEN

Then up Claymore and down with g un,

And up with promises to pay,

And down with every Saxon’s son,

That threa tens u s with reckoning d ay.

To promise aye , and never pay,

We’ve sworn by Scotland’s fiddle , ohWho ca lls a Scot to cash his notWe’ll cut him through the mi ddle, oh I

CHORUS OF SCOTCH ECONOMISTS

ON A PROSPECT OF SCOTCH BANKS IN ENGLAND

To the a ir of The Campb e lls are coming

Qu ickly He pay A lack ! he is poor .

Falstafi Look on his fa ce. Wha t call you rich ?Let him coin his face — [Shakespea re Henry I V, FirstPart, act ii i, sc . i ii , l.

THE braw lads are coming— Oho Oho

The braw lads are coming—Oho Oho l

The highways they'

re trea d in’

From bonnie Dun-Ed in ,g

With cou sins by dozens—Oho Oho 1

No shoon have the braw lads—Oh no l Oh no lNo hose have the braw lads—Oh no ! Oh noNo breeks for the wearing,No shirts for the a iring,No coin for the bea ring—Oh no ! Oh no !

CHORUS OF SCOTCH ECONOM I STS

Each leaves a braw lassie— Oho Oho 1

Each face is a ll bra ssy— Oho Oho !

They are bound for soft places ,Where coining their fa cesWill mend their lean ca ses—Oho Oho l

The English they’ll settle— Oho Oho

They’ll harry their metal—Oho l Oho lThey

’

ll coin muckle paper,They’ll make a grea t vapour ,

To their fiddle we’ll caper—Oho Oho 1

Come riddle my riddle— Oho Oho !

The cat and the fid d le— Oho l OhoSing high diddle d iddle,It is the Scotch fiddle ,Then lead down the middle—Oho ! Oho l

The cat is the miller— Oho Oho !

Grinds paper to siller— Oho Oho

He plays the Scotch fiddle,Sing high diddle diddle ,We’ve riddled the riddle—Oho Oho I

The English we’ll saddle— Oho l OhoWe ’ll ride them a - straddle—Oho Oho

They bea t u s in ba ttle,When money would ra ttle ,But now they

’re our cattle—Oho Oho I

In parley metall ic—Oho Oho 1

They bothered our Ga elic—Oho l Oho IBut with sly disputa tion,And ra g circula tion,We’ve mastered their na tion— Oho Oho l

3 19

3 20 PAPER MONEY LYRI CS

Come , Johnny Bull hither—Oho ! Oho !We’ll make you qui te lither—Oho Oho

Come dance for your bettersA hornpipe in fetters ,We’ll teach you your letters— Oho l Oho 1

Come, sing as we’ve sa id it—Oho l Oho !Sing Free trade and credit — Oho l Oho !Sing Scotch educationAnd O

’

er-popula tionAnd Wealth of the na tion — Oho Oho

Then scrape the Scotch fid d le— Oho Oho l

Here’s John in the middle—Oho l Oho 1There’s nothing so bonnyA s Scotch paper money

,

Now dance away, Johnny—Oho ! Oho

YE KITE-FLYERS OF SCOTLAND

By T. C.

1

Quel ch’

io vi debbo posso d i par olePagare in parts , e d

’opera d ’

inchiostro—Ariosto.

YE kite-flyers of Scotland ,

Who live from home at ea seWho ra ise the wind , from yea r to year,In a long and strong trade bree ze

Your paper- kites let loose aga inOn all the winds tha t blow

Through the shout of the routLay the English ragmen low

Though the shout for gold be fierce and bold ,And the English ragmen low .

1 Thomas Campbell.

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3 2: PAPER MONEY LYRICS

CHORUS OF NORTHUMBRIANS

ON THE PROHIBITION OF SCOTCH ONE - POUND NOTESIN ENGLAND

MARCH , march, Make- rags of Borrowdale 1 ,Whether ye promise to b ea rs?or order

March , march , Take- rag and Bawbee ta il 2,All the Scotch flimsies must over the Border

Va inly you snarl anentNew A ct of Parliament ,

B idding you vanish from da iry and lauder 3

Dogs , you have had your d ay ,

Down ta il and slink awayYou’ll pick no more bones on this side of the Border.

Hence to the hills where your fathers stole ca ttleHence to the glens where they sku lked from the law ;

Hence to the moors where they vanished from battle .Crying De’il tak the hindmost and Charlie’s

Meta l is clanking hereOff with your banking gea r

Ofl, ere you’

re pa id to Old Harry or orderEngland shall many a d ayWish you’d been far away ,

Long e re your kite-wings flew over the Border .

1 Not the Cumbe rland B orrod a ile , but the genuineancient name of that district of Scotland , w ha tever itbe ca lled now , from which w as issued the first promiseto pay , that w a s made w ith the express purpose ofbein broken .

2 Scoticé for Ta g- ra g and Bob- ta il : a highly

respectable old firm A paper k ite with a bawbeeat its ta il is perhaps a better emblem of the sa fe andeconomica l currency of Scotland than Mr Canning

’

s

mounta in of paper irrigated by a rivulet of g old .

3 Scoticé for arder.

MARGERY DAW 3 2 3

March , march , Ettrick and Teviotd ale

Pay- day’s the word , lads , and gold 13 the law ,

March, march , Eskdale and Liddesda leTa g d ale , and Ragdale, and Bob d ale , and a

’

Person or purse , they sayPurse you have none to pay

Your persons who’ll dea l with , except the RecorderYet, to retri eve your freaks ,

You can just leave your breeksYou ’llwant them nomore when you ’re over the Border .

High on a pole in the vernal sun’s b a sk ing s ,When April has summoned you ra g ships away ,

We ’ll hoist up a pa ir of your best galligaskins ,

Entwined with young thistles to usher in MayTypes of Scotch copita lThey shall o’

e r- top- it- a ll ,

Stripped ofl from bearer and brushed into orderThen if you tarry, rogues ,

Nettles you ’ll get for brogues ,

And to the Rogue’s March be drummed o’

er theBorder.

MARGERY DAW

Agite inspic ite aurum est. Profecto , spe ctatores ,Comicum .

Verum a d hanc rem agund am Philippum e st.

Plautus , Pa nulu s [act 111, sc . ii , 11. 20

CHORUS OF PAPER MONEY MAKERS

SEE - SAW , Margery Daw ,

Spent a ll her gold a nd made money of straw.

Margery Daw was our prototype fa irShe built the first bank ever heard of

Her treasury ripened and dried in the a ir ,

And governments hung on the word of

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3 26 PAPER MONEY LYRICS

The tumult of ruin, from near and from far ,

Once more made the mighty men QuakersSe e - saw , Margery Daw ,

Ofl with the gold aga in give u s more straw

The Jews made a project for Margery Daw ,

She thought it too ticklish for tryingBut they sent her a Scotchman exceedingly braw ,

To prove ’twa s a s ea sy as lyingSe e - saw , Ma rgery Daw ,

A wee b it 0’ gold and a mi ckle of straw

Margery heard the MacPu zz lehea d preach ,

And she w as no whit a logician,She knew little more than the eight parts of speech

,

Though she wrote with amaz ing precisionMargery Daw Margery DawThe prettiest wri ting the world ever saw .

Margery scattered her treasures abroad ,

And who w as so glorious as she thenHe who was backward in Margery

’

s laud ,

Mac Puzz lehead proved , was a Hea then .

Se e - saw , gold in the straw,

Who was so glorious as Margery Daw

Up started the small fry of straw money men,

Who seemed to have fallen for everThey sca ttered their straw o

’er the na tion a ga in,

And chorused a s yet they ha d neverSe e - saw , plenty of straw,

Will make u s all glorious as Margery Daw

Margery’

s glory was darkened a fresh,

The grea t men aga in stood a -kimboShe fea red she wa s caught in Mac Pu zzlehea d

’

s meslWho ha d argued her gold out of limbo.

Se e -saw , pile up the straw ,

Bring me a flamb eau sa id Margery Daw .

MARGERY DAW 3 27

A ga in in her anger she da rkened the a irWith the smoke of a vast confla gration,

A nd aga in to the earth in dismay and despa ir,

Fell the heroes of straw circula tion.

Se e - saw , Margery DawOwes you no courtesy burn your own straw

A round and about came a glad rabble rout,The flames from a distance discerning

A nd shouting they saw , in the midst of the straw,

Ma c Pu zzlehea d’

s efli gy burning.

Se e - saw , pile up the straw ,

Roa st the Mac Puz zlehead , Margery Daw

But then to the sky rose a terrible cry,

A long and a loud lamenta tion ;And Margery’s ha lls rang with wa ilings and

Tha t filled he r with deep consterna tion :

Straw, straw ,give u s some straw

Straw , or we perish , sweet Margery Daw

And what happened then Oh, what happened thenOh where is the rest of the story

And what w as devised by the land’s mighty men ,

To renovate Margery’s gloryOh,

there is a flaw in the volume of straw,

That tells the true story of Margery Daw .

But we find if we pore ancient manuscripts o’

er

With deep antiquarian endeavour ,Tha t Margery’s straw became metal once more 1,And she wa s a s glorious as ever.

Se e - saw , plenty of strawW ill make u s a ll glorious as Margery Daw .

1 If it be not now, yet it will come THE READINESSI s ALL —Hamlet, a ct v, sc . ii.

3 28 CATHOLIC EMANCI PATI ON

MARGARET LOVE PEACOCK

LONG night succeeds thy little day ;Oh blighted blossom can it b e .

That this grey stone and grassy clayHave closed our anxious care of the e

The half-form’d speech of artless thou ght,

That spoke a mind beyond thy yea rsThe song, the dance . by na ture ta ught ;The sunny smiles . the transient‘

tears

The symmetry of face and form,

The eye with light and life repleteThe little heart so fondly wa rm

These lost to hope , in memory yetAround the hearts tha t lov’

d thee cling .

Shadowing, with long and vain regre t ,The too fair promise of thy spring .

CATHOLIC EMANCIPATION 1

WHEN John of Ziska went to kingdom comeHe le ft h

’

m skin to mak e his church a d rum.

To sound a rub -a -dub for Reforma tion .

So W‘

mche lsea , who soon will b e no more ,

To bigots of all ages and cond i tionsShall leave his noble sheepskin for petitions .

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THE M ISFORTUNES OF ELPHIN

The ale- froth is white , and the mea d sparkles brightThey both smile apart, and with smiles they unite 1 :The mead from the flower, and the ale from the corn,

Smile , sparkle , and sing in the b uflalo horn.

The horn the blue horn, cannot stand on its tipIts pa th Is right on from the hand to the lipThough the bowl and the wine - cup our table adorn.

More natural the draught from the b uflalo horn.

But Se ithenyn ap Seithyn, the generous , the bold,Drinks the bright-flow ing wine from the far-gleaminggold

The wine , in the bowl by his lip tha t is worn,

Shall be glorious as mead in the b uflalo horn.

The horns circle fast, but their founta ins will last,A s the stream passes ever , and never is pastExhausted so quickly, replenished so soon,They wax and they wane like the horns of the moon.

Fill high the blue horn , the blue b uflalo hornFill high the long silver-rimmed buffalo hornWhile the roof of the hall by our chorus is torn,

Fill, fill to the brim , the deep silver-rimmed horn.

THE SONG OF THE FOUR WINDS 11

WIND from the north the young spring d ayIs pleasant on the sunny meadThe merry harps at evening playThe dance g ay y ouths and ma idens lea d

1 The mixture of a le and mead made brad awd , a

favourite drink of the Ancient Britons .

This poem is a specimen of a numerou s c lass of

ancient Welsh poems , in which each stanza b egins

THE SONG OF THE FOUR WINDS 3 3 1

The thrush makes chorus from the thorn :The

.mighty drinker fills his horn.

Wind from the east the shore is stillThe mounta in- clouds fly tow ’

rd s the seaThe ic e is on the winter- rill

The grea t hall fire is bla z ing freeThe prince’s circling feast is spreadDrink fills with fumes the bra inless head.

Wind from the south in summer shade’Tis sweet to hear the loud harp ringSweet is the step of comely ma id ,Who to the bard a cup doth bringThe black crow flies where carrion liesWhere pig - nuts lurk , the swine will work.

Wind from the west the autumnal deepRolls on the shore its billowy prideHe , who the rampart

’

s watch must keep ,

Will mark with aw e the rising tideThe high spring- tide, that bursts its mound,May roll o’

er miles of level ground .

Wind from the west the mighty waveOf ocean bounds o

’

er rock and sandThe foaming surges roar and raveAga inst the bulwarks of the landWhen waves are rough , and winds are high,Good is the land that’s high and d ry.

with a repetition of the predominant idea , and ter

minates with a proverb , more or less applicable to thesubject . In some poems , the sequency of the ma inimages is re g ular and connected , and the proverbia ltermina tions strictly appropria te ; in others , thesequency of the ma in images i s loose and incoherent,and the proverbial termina tion has little or nothing todowith the subject of the stanza . The basis of the °

poemin the text is in the Englynion of Llwyarch Hén.

3 3 2 THE M I SFORTUNES OF ELPHIN

Wind from the west : the storm-c loud s ris e ;

The breakers rave ; the whirl-b lasts roar.

The ming led rag e of seas and sld es

When sa fety’

s far , and dang er nigh ,

Swift feet the readiest a id supply.

GWYDDNAU El CANT

PAN DDOA I v u OR nRos CANTREv Y CWAELAwn

A SONG OF GWYTHNO GARANHIR

ON THE INUNDATION or THE SEA OVER THE PLA IN or

STAND fir th. Se ithenyn winds are highLook down beneath the lowe ring sky ;Look from the rock : wha t me ets thy sig ht ?Nought b ut the break ers rolling white .

Stand forth , Se ithenyn : winds are still

Look from the rock and heathy hillFm Gwythno

’

s realm : wha t mee ts thy view INought but the ocean

’

s dese rt blue .

Curst be the treacherous mound . tha t gaveA passag e to the mining wave :Curst b e the cup , with mes d froth crowne d .

Tha t charmed from thought the tru sted mound.

A tumult, and a cry to heaven !The white surf b rea ks : the mound is riven

Throu gh the wide rift the ocean-springBursts with tumultu ous ravag ing .

The western’s ocean’s stormy mightIs curling o

'er the ramparts

’ he ight

Presumption. from a b undanc e b orn.

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3 3 4 THE M ISFORTUNES OF ELPHIN

Sad was the feast , which he who sprea dIs numbered with the inglorious deadThe feas t within the torchlit hall,While stormy breakers mined the wa ll .

To him repenta nce came too lateIn cups the cha tterer met his fa teSudden and sa d the doom that burstOn him and me , but mine the worst .

I love the shore and ha te the deepThe wave has robbed my nights of sleepThe hea rt of man is cheered by wineBut now the wine- cup cheers not mine .

The feast, which bounteous hands dispenseMakes glad the soul, and charms the senseBut in the circling fea st I knowThe coming of my deadliest foe .

Blest be the rock, whose foot suppliedA step to them that fled the tideThe rock of bards , on whose rude steepI bless the shore , and hate the deep .

DYHUDDIANT ELFFIN

THE CONSOLATION OF ELPHIN

LAMENT not , Elphin do not measureBy one brief hour thy loss or ga inThy weir to- night has borne a trea sure ,Will more than pay thee years of pa in .

St Cynllo’

s a id will not be va inSmooth thy bent brow , and cease to mourrThy weir will never bea r aga inSuch wealth as it to-night has borne.

CANU Y MEDD 3 3 5

The stormy seas , the silent rivers ,The torrents down the steeps that spring,Alike of weal or woe are givers ,As plea ses heaven

’

s immortal king.

Though fra il I seem , rich gifts I bring ,Which in Time’s fulness shall appear,Grea ter than if the stream should flingThree hundred salmon in thy weir.

Cast Ofl this fru itless sorrow ,loading

With heaviness the unmanly mindDespond not mourn not evil bodingCrea tes the ill it fears to find .

When fates ar e dark, and most unkindAre they who most should do thee right,Then wilt thou know thine eyes were blindTo thy good fortune of to-night.

Though , sma ll and feeble, from my coracleTo thee my helpless hands I spread ,Yet in me brea thes a holy ora cleTo b id thee lift thy drooping head .

When hostile steps around thee tread ,A spell of power my voice shall wield ,Tha t, more than arms with slaughter red ,

Shall be thy refuge and thy shield .

CANU Y MEDD

THE MEAD SONG OF TALIESIN

THE King of kings upholds the hea ven ,

And parts from earth the billowy sea

By Him all earthly joys are givenHe loves the just, and guards the free .Round the w ide hall, for thine and thee ,With purest draughts the mead-horns foam ,

Ma elg on of Gwyneth Can it beTha t here a prince bewa ils his home

3 36 THE M ISFORTUNES OF ELPHIN

The b ee taste s not the spa rkling d raug htWhich morta ls from his toils Ob tain

Tha t sends , in festa l circles q uafle d .

Swe et tumult throug h the heart and b rain.The timid , while the horn they drain ,Grow bold the happy more re joiceThe mourner ceases to compla inThe gifted ba rd exalts his voice .

To royal Elphin life I owe ,

Nurture and name , the ha rp. and me a dFull . pure , and sparkling b e their flow,

The horns to Ma elgon’s lips de cre ed

For him may horn to horn succeed ,Till, glowing with their generous fire ,

He b id the captive chief b e fre ed ,

Whom at his hand s my songs req uire .

Elphin ha s given me store of mead.Mea d , ale , and wine, and fish, and cornA happy home a splendid ste ed ,

To-morrow be the auspicious mornTha t home the expected chief shall leadSo may King Mae lgon drain the hornIn thrice thre e million feasts of mead .

SONG OF THE WIND 1

THE wind s that wand er far and fre e ,Bring whispers from the shores the y sw e epVoices of fa s t and reve lryMurmurs of forests and the deep

1 This poem ha s little or nothing of Ta liesin ’

s Cone

yw ,with the exception of the title . Tha t poem is

apparently a fra gment ; and . as it now stands , is an

incoherent and scarcely intelligible rha psody. It con

tains no d istinc t or explic it id ea , except the proposition

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3 3 3 THE M ISFORTUNES op ELPHIN

III with his prey the fox may wend .When the young lion quits his la ir :Sharp sword. strong shield . stou t arm. shou ld tendOn spirits tha t unjustly dare.

To me the wandering bre ezes hearThe war-blast from Ca er Lleon‘s brow ;

The avenging storm is brooding thereTo which Diganwy

’

s towers sha ll b ow .

THE INDIGNATION OF TALIESIN WITH THEBARDS OF MAELGON GVVYNETH

FALSE bard s the sa cred fire pervert ,Whose songs are won withou t desertWho falsehoods weave in specious la ys ,

To gild the base with virtue’s pra ise.

From court to court, from tower to towe r,In warrior’s tent , in lady

'

s bower.

For gold . for wine , for food , for fire .

They tu ne their throa ts at all men’s hire .

06W ar, 06767 6Gfipi s‘ (re tro 56raw : xdppm

a xai s e‘folmpor dpnxmow a

[No sla g w as there then . no fighting : b ut is:

from b a e lay the shield of Ba cchus cove red withspiders

' web for six yea rs].And Be a umont and Fletcher. in the Wife for a

Month

Would‘st thou live so long, till thy sword b unny.And la zy spiders filled the hilt wi th cob we b sA Persian poe t says , describ ing ruins :The spider spreads the ve il in the pa la ce of themAnd among the most felicitous uses of this emb lm .

must never be forgotten Hog arth'

s cobwe b over the

lid of the charity- b ox.

THE INDIGNA TION OF TAL IESIN 3 3 9

Their harps te - echo wide and farWith sensual love, and bloody war ,

And d runk enness , and fla ttering liesTruth’s light may shine for other eyes .

In pa laces they still are found ,

At fea sts , promoting senseless soundHe is their demigod at lea st ,Whose only virtue is his fea st.

They love to talk they hate to thinkA ll d ay they sing a ll night they drinkNo useful toils their hands employIn boisterous throngs is all their j oy.

The bird will fly , the fish will swim ,

The bee the honeyed flowers will skimIts food by toil ea ch creature brings ,Except false bards and worthless kings .

Learning and wisdom cla im to findHomage and succour from mankindBu t learning’s right, and wisdom

’

s due ,Are falsely cla imed by slaves like you .

True bards know truth , and truth will showYe know it not,

’

nor care to knowYour k ing’s weak mind false judgment warpsRebuke his wrong , or break your harps .

I know the mounta in and the pla inI know where right and justice reignI from the tower will Elphin freeYour king shall learn his doom from me .

A spectre of the marsh shall rise ,With yellow teeth , and ha ir , and eyes ,

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A VALLENA U M YEDDIN 3 43

Which the black rocks , dripping round ,And the flying Spray have madeBright the ic e-drops on the ashLeaning o

’

er the catara ct’s dash .

Bright the hearth , where feast and songCrown the warrior’s hour of peace ,While the snow- storm drives along,Bidding war’s worse tempest cea seBright the hearth-flame , flashing clearOn the up-hung shield and spear.

Bright the torchlight of the hallWhen the wintry night-winds blowBrightest when its splendours fallOn the mead- cup’s sparkling flowWhile the maiden’s smile of lightMakes the brightness trebly bright.

Close the porta ls pile the hearthStrike the harp the feast pursueBrim the horns fire , music, mirth,Mead and love , are winter

’

s due.Spring to purple conflict callsSwords tha t shine on winter’s walls .

AVALLENAU MYRDDIN

MERLIN’

S APPLE -TREES

FAIR the g ift to Merlin given ,

Apple- trees seven score and sevenEqua l a ll in ag e and siz eOn a green hill- slope, that liesBasking in the southern sun,

Where bright waters murmuring run.

44 THE M ISFORTUNES OF ELPHIN

Just beneath the pure stream flowsHigh above the forest g rowsNot again on earth is foundSuch a slope of orchard groundSong of birds , and hum of bees ,

Ever haunt the apple - trees.

Lovely green their leaves in springLovely bright their blossomingSweet the shelter and the shadeBy their summer foliage madeSweet the fruit their ripe boughs hold ,

Fruit delicious , tinged with gold .

Gloyad , nymph with tresses bright ,Teeth of pearl, and eyes of light,Guards these gifts of Ce id io’

s son ,

Gwend ol , the lamented one ,Him , whose keen- edged sword no moreFlashes ’mid the battle’s roar.

War has raged on va le and hillTha t fa ir g rove was pea ceful still.There have chiefs and princes soughtSolitude and tranquil thoughtThere have kings , from courts and throngTurned to Merlin’s wild-wood songs.

Now from echoing woods I hearHostile axes sounding nearOn the sunny slope reclinedFeverish grief disturbs my mind ,

Lest the wasting edge consumeMy fair Spot of fruit and bloom.

Lovely trees , that long aloneIn the sylvan vale have grown,

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THE MASSACRE OF THE BRI TONS 3 47

But him , at Eid iol’

s1 breast who aimed ,

The mighty Briton’

s arm lai d lowHis eyes with righteous anger flamed

He wrenched the dagger from the foe

And through the throng he cleft his way,

And raised without his battle- cryAnd hundreds hurried to the fray,

From towns , and vales , and mountains high.

But Brita in’s best blood dyed the floorWithin the trea cherous Saxon’s hallOf all, the golden cha in who wore,Two only answered Eid iol’ 3 call.

Then clashed the sword then pierced the lanceThen by the axe the shield was rivenThen d id the steed on Cattraéth prance ,And deep in blood his hoofs were driven.

Even as the flame consumes the wood ,

80 Eid iol rushed along the fieldA s sinks the snow-bank in the flood ,80 d id the ocean-rovers yield.

The spoilers from the fane he drove,He hurried to the rock-built tower,Where the base king , in mirth and love ,Sate with his Saxon paramour 2

The storm of arms was on the gate,The blaz e of torches in the hall ,80 swift , tha t ere thy feared their fate,The flames had sca led their chamber wall .

1 E id iol or Emrys Emrys W le d ig Ambrosius.

2 Vortigern and Rowena .

3 48 THE M I SFORTUNES OF ELPHIN

They died for them no Briton grievesNo planted flower above them wavesNo hand removes the withered leavesTha t strew their solitary graves.

And time the avenging d ay brought roundThat saw the sea - chief va inly su e

To make his false host bite the groundWas all the hope our warrior knew.

And evermore the strife he le d ,

Disdaining peace, with princely might ,Till

,on a spear , the spoiler

’

s 1 hea dWas reared on Ca er-

y-Cynan

’

s height.

THE CAULDRON OF CERIDWEN

THE sage Ceridw en was the wifeOf Te g id Voél, of Pemble MereTwo children blest their wedded life,Morvran and Cre irwy, fair and dearMorvran, a son of peerless worth ,

And Cre irwy, loveliest nymph of earthBut one more son Ce rid w en bare ,As foul as they before were fa ir.

She strove to make Avag d d u wiseShe knew he never could be fa irAnd , studying magic mysteries ,

She ga thered plants of virtu e rare :She pla ced the gifted plants to steepWithin the magic cauldron deep ,

Where they a year and d ay must boil ,Till three drops crown the ma tron’s toil.

1 Heng ist.

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3 50 THE M I SFORTUNES OF ELPHIN

And hence o’

er hill and vale I go,And sing , unharmed , whate

’er I will.She has for me Time’s veil withdrawnThe images of things long gone ,The shadows of the coming days ,Are present to my visioned gaze .

And I have hea rd the words of power ,

By Ce irion’

s solitary lake ,Tha t b id , at midnight

’

s thrilling hour ,

Eryri’

s hundred echoes wake.I to Dig anwy

’

s towers have sped ,

And now Ca er Lleon’

s halls I tread ,

Demanding j ustice, now as then ,

From Ma e lg on , most unj ust of men.

RICH AND POOR

ofi, SAINT AND SINNER

Thi s is a correct copy of a little poem which ha s beenoften printed , and not quite accurately. It first appea red , many years ag o,

in The Glob e and Traveller,and w as suggested by a speech in whichMrWilberforce ,r lying to an observa tion of Dr Lushing ton , that‘et’he Society for the Suppression of V ice med d led withthe poor a lone sa id tha t the offences of the poorcame more under observa tion than those of the rich.

’

T . L . P .

THE poor man’

s sins are glaringIn the face of ghostly warning

He is caught in the factOf an overt a ct

Buying g reens on Sunday morning.

The rich man’s sins are hiddenIn the pomp of wealth and sta tion

And escape the sightOf the children of light ,

Who are wise in their generation .

RI CH AND POOR 3 sr

The rich man ha s a kitchen ,

And cooks to dress his dinnerThe poor who would roastTo the baker’s must post ,

And thus becomes a sinner.

The rich man has a cellar ,

And a ready butler by himThe poor must steerFor his pint of beer

Where the sa int can’t choose but spy

The rich man’s pa inted windowsHide the concerts of the quality

The poor can but shareA c rack

’

d fiddle in the a ir ,

Which oflend s a ll sound morality.

The rich man is invisibleIn the crowd of his g ay societyBut the poor man’s d ek ghtI s a sore in the Sight ,

And a stench in the nose of piety.

The rich man ha s a carriageWhere no rude eye can flout him

The poor man’s baneI s a third- class tra in,

With the d ay- light a ll about him.

The rich man goes out yachting .

Where sanctity can’t pursue him

The poor goes afloatIn a fourpenny boa t ,

Where the bishops groan to view him.

3 52 THE FA TE OF A BROOM

THE FATE OF A BROOM

AN ANTICIPATION

These lines were publishe d in The Examine r of Aulghnst

18 3 1 . The were then called an anticipation . eyM

LP.

now e fa irly entitled a prophecy fu lfilled, 1 8 3 7 .

Lo 1 in corruption’

8 lumber-room,

The remnants of a wondrous broom.

Tha t walking, talking , oft was seen ,

Making stout promise to sweep clean ,Bu t evermore, at every push ,Proved but a stump without a bru sh.

Upon its handle -mp . a sc once ,

Like Brahma’

s looked four ways at once

Long floods of favour-currying gabbleFrom fourfold mouthpi ec e always spinningProje cts of plausible beginningWhereof said sconce d id ne’er intendThat any one should have an end ;Yet still , by shi fts and quaint inventions ,

Adding no trifle to the storeWherewith the Devil paves his floor.

And thrown aside with other rubbish ,

We’

ll e’en hand o’er the enchanted stick ,

To swe ep, beyond the Stygian lake .

The pavement it ha s helped to make.

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3 54 FROM CROTCHET CASTLE

Beyond the sea , beyond the sea ,

The swallow wanders fast and fre eOh, happy bird 1 were I like theeI , too, would fly beyond the se a .

Beyond the sea , beyond the sea ,

Are kindly hea rts and social gleeBut here for me they may not beMy heart is gone beyond the se a .

LLYN-Y-DREIDDIAD- VRAWD

THE POOL or THE DIVING FRIAR

GWENWYNWYN withdrew from the feasts of hi s hall ;He slept very little , he prayed not at a ll

He pondered , and wandered , and stud ied a loneAnd sought, night and d ay, the philosopher

’

s stone.

He found it at length , and he made its first proofBy turning to gold a ll the lead of hi s roofThen he bought some magnanimous heroes , a ll fire ,Who lived but to smite and be smitten for hire.

With these, on the pla ins like a torrent he broke ;He filled the whole country with flame and with smoke ;He killed a ll the sw ine , and he broached a ll the wine ;He drove off the sheep , and the beeves , and the kine ;

He took castles and towns ; he cut short lim and

livesHe made orphans and widows of children and wives :

This course many years he tr iumphantly ran,

And d id mischief enough to be called a g rea t man.

LLYN-Y-DREIDDIAD VRAWD 3 55

When, at last, he had gained a ll for which he had

striven ,

He bethought him of buying a pa ssport to heavenGood and grea t a s he was , yet he d id not well knowHow soon , or which w ay, his great spiri t might go.

He sought the grey friars , who, beside a wild stream,

Refected their frames on a primitive schemeThe gravest and wisest Gw enwynwyn found out,A ll lonely and ghostly and angling for trout .

Below the white dash of a mighty ca scade,Where a pool of the stream a deep resting-place made ,A nd rock- rooted oaks stretched their branches on high ,

The friar stood musing , and throwing his fly.

I

To him said Gw enwynwyn Hold , father, here’

s store,

For the good of the church , and the good of the poorThen he g ave

'

him the stone but , e re more he couldspeak ,

Wrath came on the fra ir, so holy and meek

He had stretched forth his hand to receive the re d gold,

A nd he thought himself mocked by Gw enwynwyn theBold

And in scorn of the gift , and in rage at the giver ,

He j erked it immedia tely into the river.

Gw enwynwyn, aghast, not a syllable spakeThe philosopher’s stone made a duck and a drakeTwo systems of circles a moment were seen,

And the stream smoothed them off, a s they never hadbeen.

Gw enwynwyn rega ined , and uplifted ,his voice

Oh fra ir , g rey friar , full rash wa s thy choiceThe stone , the good stone , which away thou hast

thrown ,

Wa s the stone of all stones, the philosopher’

s stone l

3 56 FROM CROTCHET CASTLE

The friar looked pale, when his error he knewThe friar looked red , and the friar looked b lueAnd heels over head, from the point of a rock ,

He plunged , without stopping to pull ofl his frock.

He dived very deep , but he dived all in'

va in ,The prize he had slighted he found not againMany times d id the friar his diving renew,

And deeper and deeper the river still g rew.

Gw enwynwyn gazed long, of his senses in dou b t,To se e the grey friar a diver so stoutThen sadly and slowly his castle he sought,And left the friar diving, like dabchick distra u ght.

Gw enwynwyn fell sick with alarm and de spite ,

Died , and went to the devil, the very same nightThe magnanimous heroes he held in his paySacked his castle , and marched with the plunde r away.

No knell on the silence of midnight w as rolled,

For the flight of the soul of Gw enwynwyn the BoldThe brethren , unfee

’d , let the mighty ghost pass ,Without praying a prayer, or intoning a mass .

The friar haunted ever beside the dark streamThe philosopher’s stone was his thought and his dreamAnd d ay after d ay, ever head under heels ,He dived a ll the time he could spare from his mea ls.

He dived , and he dived , to the end of his days ,A s the peasants oft witnessed with fear and amaze :The mad friar’s diving-place long was their theme,And no plummet can fathom tha t pool of the stream.

And still, when light clouds on the midnight w inds rid e.If by moonlight you stray on the lone river- side,The ghost of the friar may be seen diving there ,

With head in the water and heels in the a ir.

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3 58 FROM CROTCHET CASTLE

To judge the cause , if clerk or knightIn love be worthi est found .

The falcon and the sparrow-hawkStood forward for the fight

Ready to do and not to talk,They voted for the knight.

And B lanchflor’

s heart began to fail ,Till rose the strong-voiced lark,

And , a fter him, the nightingale,And pleaded for the clerk.

The nightingale preva iled at length ,

He r pleading had such charmsSo eloquence can conquer streng th ,

And arts can conquer arms .

The lovely Florence tore he r ha ir,And died upon the place

And a ll the birds as sembled thereBewa iled the mournful case.

They piled up leaves, and flow erets rare ,

Above the ma iden bright ,And sang : Farewell to Florence fa ir ,Who too well loved he r knight

THE PRIEST AND THE MULBERRY TREE l

DID you hear of the curate who mounted his mare .

And merrily trotted a long to the fa irOf crea ture more tractable none ever heard ,

In the height of he r speed she would st0p at a w ord

1 Imitated from the Fablian Du Provoz'

re qm’

mengcad es M fires.

IN THE DA YS OF OLD 3 59

And aga in with a word , when the curate said Hey,

She put forth her mettle , and galloped away .

AS near to the gates of the city he rode,Whi le the sun of September all brilliantly glowed ,

The good priest di scovered , with eyes of desire,A mulberry tree in a hedge of wild briarOn boughs long and lofty , in many a green shoot,Hung large , black, and glossy, the beautifu l fru it.

The curate was hungry and thirsty to bootHe shrunk from the thorns, though he longed for thefruit

With a word he arrested his courser’s keen spe ed ,

And he stood up erect on the back of his steedOn the saddle he stood , while the crea ture stood still ,And he gathered the fruit , till he took his good fill .

Sure never he thought, was a creature so rare,SO docile , so true , as my excellent mare.LO , here , how I stand (and he gazed all around),As safe and a s steady as if on the ground ,Yet how ha d it been , if some traveller this way,

Ha d , dreaming no mischief, but chanced to cry Hey

He stood with his head in the mulberry tree ,And he spoke out a loud in his fond reverieAt the sound of the word , the good mare made a push,And down went the priest in the wild-briar bush .

He remembered too late, on his thorny green bed ,

Much that well may be thought , cannot wisely be sa id.

IN THE DAYS OF OLD

IN the days of old ,

Lovers felt true passion ,

Deeming years of sorrowBy a smile repaid.

360 B YP AND NOP

Now the charms of gold ,

Spells of pride and fashion ,

Bid them say good-morrowTo the best- loved ma id.

Through the forests wild ,

O’

er the mounta ins lonely,They were never wearyHonour to pursueI f the damsel smiledOnce in seven years only,

All their wanderings drea ryAmple guerdon knew.

Now one day’s capriceWeighs down years of smi ling,Youthful hearts are rovers ,Love is bought and soldFortune’s gifts may cease ,Love is less beguilingWiser were the lovers ,In the days Of Old .

BYP AND NOP

Promotion BY PURCHASE and by NO PURCHASE ;or a Dia logue between Capta in A . am?Colonel Q.

QUOTH Byp to Nop I made my hopBy paying for promotion

Quoth Nop to Byp I made my skipBy a id of petticoation.

’

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362 THE LEGEND OF MANOR HALL

When themarket was done , and the chapmenlw ere gone,Each man his several way.

He sta lked by his load , along the roa d

His face with wra th wa s red

His arms he tossed , like a goodman crosse d

In seeking his da ily bread.

His face was re d , and fierce was his trea d,

And with lusty voice cried heMy corn I

’

ll sell to the devil of hell,I f he ’ll my Chapman be

These words he spoke, just under an oak ,

Seven hund red winters old

And he stra ight w as aware of a man sitting there,On the roots and grassy mould .

The roots rose high , o’

e r the greenswa rd d ry,

And the grass around was green,

Save just the space of the stranger’s pla c e ,

Where it seemed as fire ha d been.

All scorched was the spot , as gypsy potHa d swung and bubbled there

The gra ss wa s marred , the roots were charred ,And the ivy stems were bare.

The stranger up sprung to the farmer he flungA loud and friendly hail,

And he sa id I se e well, thou has t corn to sell.And I

’

ll buy it on the nail.’

The twa in in a trice agreed on the priceThe stranger his earnest paid ,

And with horses and wa in, to come for the grain.His own appointment made .

THE LEGEND OF MANOR HALL 363

The farmer cracked his whip, and trackedHis way ri ght merrily on

He struck up a song, as he trudged along,For joy tha t his job was done.

His children fair he danced in the airHis heart w ith joy was b ig

He kissed his wife he seized a knifeHe slew a sucking-

pig .

The faggots burned , the porkling turnedAnd crackled before the fire

And an odour arose , tha t was sweet in the noseOf a passing ghostly friar .

He tirled at the pin, he entered in,

He sa te down at the boardThe pig he blessed , when he saw it well d ressed,And the humming a le outpoured.

The friar laughed , the friar q u afled ,

He chirped like a bird in MayThe farmer told , how hi s corn he had sold,As he journeyed home tha t d ay.

The friar he quafled , but no longer he laughed,He changed from red to paleOh, hapless elf l

’tis the fiend himself,

To whom thou hast made thy sale.’

The friar he quafled , he took a deep draught ;He crossed himself ama in ;

Oh, slave of pelf,’

tis the devil himself,To whom thou hast sold thy grain l

And , sure as the d ay, he’ll fetch thee away.With the corn which thou hast sold.

364 THE LEGEND OF MANOR HALL

If thou le t him pay o’er one te ster more

The farmer gave vent to a loud lam ent,

The wife to a long outa y ;

The ir relish fa '

pig and fl e was flow n ;

The fria r alone pick e d every b one ,

And dra ined the flag on dry.

The fria r was g one : the morning da wnAppeare d, and the strang er

'

s wa in

Came to the hour, with six-horse pow er ,

To fetch the purchased gra in.

The horses w ere bla ck on their dewy tra ck,Light stea m from the ground up

—cu rledLong wrea ths of smoke from their nostrils broke ,And their ta ils like torches whirled l

More da rk and grim, in fa ce and limb ,

Seemed the stranger than before ,As his empty wa in , with ste eds thrice twa in,

Drew up to the farmer'

s door.

On the stranger’s fa ce was a sly grima ce,A s he seiz ed the sacks of gra in ,

And one by one, till left were none ,He tossed them on the wa in .

And slyly he leered , as his hand upreare dA purse of costly mould,

Where bright and fresh, through a silver mesh,Shone forth the g listeni ng gold .

The farmer held out his right hand stout,

And drew it back with dreadFor in fancy he heard each warning wordThe supping friar had said .

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366 NEWARK ABBEY

If your corn you sell to the fiend of he ll ,You may sell yourself therewi th.

And if by mishap, you fall in the trap ,

Would you bring the fiend to Shame ,

Lest the tempting prize should da zz le her eyesLock up your frugal dame.

NEWARK ABBEY

On the Wey, near Chertsey, Surrey

[Written in 1842 : with a reminiscence of Aug1 807 Published in Fraser in I 86o]

I GAZE where August’s sunbeam fa llsA long these grey and lonely walls ,Till in its light absorbed appearsThe lapse of five - and - thirty years .

I f change there be, I trace it notIn

’

a ll this consecra ted spotNo new imprint of Ruin

’

s marchOn roofless wall and frameless a rchThe woods , the hills , the fields , the stream,

Are basking . in the selfsame beamThe fa ll, tha t turns the unseen millAs then it murmured , murmurs still.

It seems as if in one were castThe present and the imaged pastSpanning, as with a bridge sublimeTha t fearful lapse of human timeThat gulf, unfathomably spreadBetween the living and the dea d.

For a ll too well my spirit feelsThe only change this scene revea ls .

FLORENCE AND BLANCHFLOR 3 57

FLORENCE AND BLANCHFLOR 1

FLORENCE and B lanchflor, loveliest ma ids ,Within a summer grove ,

Amid the flow er- enamelled shadesTogether talked of love.

A clerk sweet B lanchflor’s heart ha d ga inedFa ir Florence loved a knight

And ea ch with ardent voice ma inta ined ,She loved the worthiest wight.

Sweet B lanchflor prai sed her scholar dear ,AS courteous , kind , and tru e

Fa ir Florence sa id her cheva lierCould every foe subdue .

And Florence scorned the bookworm va in ,Who sword nor spear could ra ise

And B lanchflor scorned the unlettered bra inCould sing to no lady’s pra ise.

From dearest love , the ma idens brightTo deadly hatred fell

Each turned to shun the other’s sight,And neither sa id farewell.

The king of birds , who held his courtWithin that flowery grove ,

Sang loudly "Twi ll be rare disport

TO judge this suit of love. ’

Before him came the ma idens bright,With a ll his birds around ,

1 Imitated from the Fablian De Florance atd e B lanchelor, a lia s j ug ement d

’

Amour .

368 A WHI TEBA I T DINNER A T LOVEGROVE’

A W’HITEBA IT DINNER AT LOVEGROVE’S

AT BLACKWALL, JULY, 1 851

KQMOE’

I X GTOQAI‘OE

HpeOa new r pér avfipap, es fiéktov xa r ab ér ra ,p r ep 0ep1

'

«fir e pa t'

we '

ro Zet'

p10: damp,Hpbs Mékavos Te c

’

xovs, Tap e'

a a s a lh-

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SEDEB AMUS quidem pe r totum diem, usque ad sole ]occid entem,

Tempesta te utique a stiva , q uum fure b at Canicustella ,

Apud Nigrum Murum , Thame sa a d ipsas ripas ,

E d ib u s Nemoramantis , mensas q u i bene instraveraEpu lantes Optimos maris pisces et fluminis ,Percu sq u e , mu llosq u e , atque anguillas , salaras q u e ,Et a lb am e sc am , ju cund ae dapis summum d ecusHis et insuper, fercula multa carnium et pinguedine

ce rv1 ,Cotu rnic e s et in fine, g lac iesqu e eximns- irug ib u

inclyta sB ib ente sq u e vinum , Champae gnn quod tu lerunt a gri,Ve l Kheni scopu li , vel insu larum divina , Mad eira .

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3 70 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

So twine round the heart , in the light of life’

s morningLove’s coils of g reen promise and bright purp

bloomThe noontide goes by, and the colours adorning ,

Its unfulfilled dreamings , are wrapt up in gloom .

But press the fresh flower, while its charms are ye

glow ing,Its colour and form through long years will remain

And treasured in memory, thus love is still showingThe outlines of hope, which else blossomed in va in.

FROM GRYLL GRANGE ,1 860

THE DEATH OF PHILEMON 1

CLOSED was Philemon’s hundredth yea rThe thea tre was thronged to hea r

His last completed playIn the mid scene, a sudden ra inDispersed the crowd— to meet aga in

On the succeed ing d ay.

He sought his home , and slept , and dreamed .

Nine ma idens through the door, it seemed,Pa ssed to the public street .

He asked them Why they left hi s homeThey sa id A guest will hither comeWe must not stay to meet

He ca lled hi s boy w ith morning light ,Told him the vision of the night,

And bade his play be brought.

1 Suid as , su b voce t fipwv.—Apuleius , Florid 16.

THE DEA TH OF PHILEMON 3 7 1

His finished page aga in he scanned ,

Resting his head upon his hand .

Absorbed in studious thought .

He knew not what the dream foreshowedTha t nought divine may hold abode

Where death’

s dark shade is feltAnd therefore were the Muses nineLeaving the old poetic shrine ,

Where they so long had dwelt .

The theatre was thronged once more,More thickly than the d ay before ,

To hear the half- heard song .

The d ay wore on. Impa tience came.They ca lled upon Philemon’s name ,

With murmurs loud and long.

Some sought at leng th his studiousAnd to the stage returned , to tell

What thousands strove to ask .

The poet we have been to seekSate with his hand upon

'

his cheekA s pondering o’

er his task.

We spoke . He made u s no reply.

We reverentia lly drew nigh ,

And twice our errand told .

He answered not. We drew more near.The awful mystery then was clear

We found him stiff and cold .

Stru ck by so fa ir a death , we stoodAwhile in sad admiring mood

Then hastened back, to say

3 7: FROM GRYLL GRANGE

Tha t he, the pra ised and loved of all ,Is dea f for ever to your call

Tha t on this self-same d ay,

When here presented should have beenThe close of this fictitious scene ,

His life’s true scene was o’

er

We seemed , in solemn silence awed ,To he ar the Farewell and applaudWhich he may speak no more.

Of tears the ra in gave prophecyThe nuptial dance of comedy

Yields to the funeral tra in .

A ssemble where his pyre must burnHonour his ashes in their urn

And on another d ay returnTo hear his songs aga in

THE DAPPLED PALFREY 1

MY tra itorous uncle has wooed for himselfHer fa ther ha s sold her for land and for pelfMy steed , for whose equal the world they might search,In mockery they borrow to bear her to church .

Oh I is there no path through the forest so green,Where thou and I only, my palfrey, have beenWe traversed it oft, when I rode to her bowerTo tell my love tale through the rift of the tower.

Thou know’st notmywords, but thy instinct is good

By the road to the church li es thefpaththrough thewoodThy instinct is good , and her love is as trueThou wilt se e thy way homeward dear pa lfrey , adieu

1 Founded on La Va ir Pa lefroi among the Fab liau:published by Barb azon.

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74 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

Through groves and meads , o’

e r grass and hea ther,With little playma tes , to and fro,

We wandered hand in b and togetherBut tha t wa s sixty years a g o.

You grew a lovely roseate maiden,

And still ou r early love was strongStill with no care our days were laden ,They glided joyously alongAnd I d id love you very dearly,

How dearly words want power to showI thought your heart was touched as nearlyBut that w a s fifty years a g o.

Then other lovers came around you ,Your beauty grew from year to year ,

And many a splendid circle found youThe centre of its glittering sphere .I saw you then , first vows forsaking,On rank and wealth your hand bestowOh, then I thought my heart wa s breakingBut that w as forty years ag o.

And I lived on , to wed anotherNo cause she gave me to repineAnd when I heard you were a mother ,

I d id not wish the children mine .My own young flock , in fa ir progressionMade up a plea sant Christmas row

My joy in them w as past expressionBut that w a s thirty years a g o.

You grew a matron , plump and comely,

You dwelt in fashion’s brightest bla zeMy earthly lot w as far more homelyBut I too had my festa l days .

A NEW ORDER OF CHI VALRY 3 75

No merrier eyes have ever glistenedAround the hearthstone’s wintry glow,

Than when my youngest child was christenedBut that was twenty years ag o.

Time passed . My eldest girl was married ,And I am now a g randsire greyOne pet of four years old I

’

ve carriedAmong the wild-flow ere d meads to play.

In our old fields of childish pleasure ,Where now, as then , the cowslips blow,

She fills her basket’s ample mea sureAnd tha t is not ten years a g o.

But though first love’s impassioned blindnessHas passed away in colder light,I still have thought of you w ith kindness ,And sha ll do, till our last good-night.The ever- rolling silent hoursWill bring a time we sha ll not know,

When our young days of ga thering flowersWill be an hundred years a go.

A NEW ORDER OF CHIVALRY

SIR MOSES , Sir Aaron , Sir Jamrama j e e ,Two stock- j obbing Jews , and a shroffing Parsee,Have girt on the armour of old Chiva lrie ,

And , instead of the Red Cross , have hoisted Balls Three.

Now fancy ou r Sovereign , so gracious and bland ,With the sword of Sa int George in her royal right hand.Instructing this trio of marvellous KnightsInlthe mystica l meanings of Chiva lry

’

s rites.

3 76 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

You have come from the ba th , a ll in milk-white array.To Show you have washed worldly feelings aw ay ,

And ,pure as your vestments from secular sta in ,

Renounce sordid passions and se eking s for ga in .

Thi s scarf of deep red o’

e r your vestments I throw,

In token , tha t down them your life-blood sha ll flow,

Ere Chiva lry’s honour , or Christendom’

s fa ith ,

Sha ll meet through your fa ilure , or peril or sca ith .

These slippers of silk, of the colour of earth ,

Are in sign of remembrance of whence you ha d birth :Tha t from earth you have sprung , and to ear th you

return,

But stand for the fa ith ,life immorta l to earn .

This blow of the sword on your Shoulder-blade trueI s the manda te of homage , where homage is due ,And the sign that your swords from the scabbard shall

flyWhen St George and the Right is the ra llying cry.

This belt of white silk, which no speck has defa ced,Is the sign of a bosom with purity gra ced ,

And binds you to prove , wha tsoever betides ,

Of damsels distressed the friends , champions , and

g uides.

These spurs of pure gold are the symbols which say,

As your steeds obey them , you the Church shall obey,And speed at her bidding, through country and town,To strike, w ith your fa lchions , her enemies down .

’

Now fancy these Knights , when the Speech they haveheard ,

As they stand , scarfed , shoed , shoulder-dubbed , beltedand spurred ,

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3 78 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

We have small ta ste for championingmaids in distress:For Sta te we care little for Church we care lessTo Premium and Bonus our homage we plightPercentage we cry and A fig for the right !

Twixt Sa int George and the Dragon we settle it thus :Which has scrip above par is the Hero for u s

For a turn in the market, the Dragon’

s re d gorgeSha ll have our free welcome to swallow Saint George

’.

Now , God save our Queen , and if aught should occurTo peril the crown or the sa fety of her,God send that the leader, who faces the foe ,

May have more of King Richard than Moses and Co.

FROM ORLANDO INNAMORATA

WITH earnest w ish to pass the enchanted gate,Orlando to the fount aga in advanced ,

And found Morgana , a ll with joy elate ,Dancing around , and singing as she danced .

As lightly moved and twirled the lovely Fa te 1

A s to the breeze the lightest folia g e g lanced ,

1 I have translated Fata , Fate . It is usua lly transla ted Fa iry. But the idea d iflers essentially from on!

of a fairy . Among st other things there is no Fato, rOberon to the Titania . It does not , indeed , corresporwith our usua l idea of Fa te , but it is more ea sily dting u ishe d a s a class for ou r old a c u a intanc

the Fates , are an inseparable three . The ta lia n Fis independent of her sisters . They are enchantressbut they differ from other enchantresses in beingmorta l. They are beautiful, too , and their beautimmortal : a lways in Bojardo. He would not 1turned A lcina into an old woman , as Ariostowhich I must always consider a dreadful hlemis

'

the many charms of the Orland o Furioso.

ORLANDO INNAMORATO 3 79

W ith looks al ternate to the earth and sky,

S he thus gave out her words of witchery

L e t him who seeks unbounded wealth to hold ,O r j oy , or honour, or terrestrial sta te,S eiz e with his hands this lock of purest gold ,T ha t crowns my brow, and blest sha ll be hi s fate.B u t when time serves , behoves him to be bold ,

N or even a moment’s pause interpolateT he chance , once lost , he never finds aga inI tu rn, and leave him to lament in va in .

’

’

I hu s sang the lovely Fate in bowery shadeC ircling in j oy around the crysta l fount ;B u t when within the solitary gladeG littered the armour of the approaching Count ,S he Sprang upon her feet, as one dismayed ,

.A nd took her w ay towards a lofty mountT ha t rose the valley’

s narrow length to boundThither Morgana sped a long the ground .

B o jardo. Orlando I nnamorato, l . 11. c. 9 . Ed . d i Vine g ia ,

1 5441.

So spake Repentance. With the spée d of fireO rlando followed where the enchantress fled ,

R e nding and sca ttering tree and bush and brier ,

And leaving wide the vestige of his tread .

1 In the last stanza of this translation, the seventhline is the essence of the stanza immediately following ; the eighth is from a pa ssage severa l stanzasforward , a fter Orlando has obta ined the key , whichw as the obj ect of his search.

Che ma l se trova a lcun sotto la Luna ,

Ch’

adopri ben la chiave d i Fortuna .

The first tw o books of Bojardo’s poem were pu blished in 1486. The first complete edition was published in 1495. The Venetian edition of 1544, from

FROM GRYLL GRANGE

So twine round the heart , in the light of life’

s morning ,Love’s coils of green promise and bright purple

bloomThe noontide goes by , and the colours adorning .

Its unfulfilled dreamings , are wrapt up in gloom .

But press the fresh flower, while its charms a re yet

glowing,Its colour and form through long yea rs will remain :

And treasured in memory , thus love is still showingThe outlines of hope , whi ch else blossomed in vain.

FROM GRYLL GRANGE , 1 860

THE DEATH OF PHILEMON 1

CLOSED wa s Philemon’s hundredth yea rThe theatre was thronged to hear

His last completed playIn the mid scene, a sudden ra inDispersed the crowd— to meet aga in

On the succeeding d ay.

He sought his home , and Slept , and dreamed .

Nine ma idens through the door, it seemed ,Passed to the public street .

He asked them Why they left his homeThey sa id A guest will hither comeWe must not stay to meet

He called his boy with morning light,

Told him the vision of the night ,And bade hi s play be brought .

1 Suid as , sub voce —Apuleius , Flori d 16.

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3 72 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

That he, the praised and loved of all,

Is dea f for ever to your callThat on this self-same d ay,

When here presented should have b eenThe close of this fictitious scene ,

His life’s true scene was o’

er

We seemed , in solemn Silence awed ,

To hear the Farewell and applaudWhi ch he may spea k no more .

Of tears the ra in gave prophecyThe nuptial dance of comedy

Yields to the funeral tra in.

A ssemble where his pyre must burnHonour hi s ashes in their urn

And on another d ay returnTo hear his songs aga in

THE DAPPLED PALFREY 1

MY tra itorous uncle has wooed for himselfHer fa ther has sold her for land and for pelfMy steed , for whose equal the world they might search,In mockery they borrow to bear her to church.

Oh l is there no path through the forest so green.Where thou and I only, my palfrey, have beenWe traversed it oft, when I rode to her bow erTo tell my love tale through the rift of the tower.

Thou know’

st notmywords , but thy instinct is goodBy the road to the church lies the

'

p ath through the wood:Thy instinct is good , and he r love is as trueThou wilt se e thy way homeward dear pa lfrey , adieu

1 Founded on La Va ir Pa lefroi among the Fabh'

anx

published by Barb azon.

THE SPIRI T RAPPERS 3 8 3

For the daughter of the SunOn thy form we ga ze appalled .

C irce Gryllus , too, your summons ca lled .

The Three Him of yore thy powerful spellDoomed in swinish Shape to dwellYet such life he reckoned thenHappier than the life of men.

Now , when carefully he pondersA ll our scientific wonders ,Steam-driven myriads , a ll in motion,On the land and on the ocean,

Going , for the sake of going ,Wheresoever waves are flowing ,Wheresoever winds are blowingConverse through the sea transmitted .

Sw ift as ever thought ha d flittedAll the glories of our time,Past the pra ise of loftiest rhymeWill he, seeing these , indeed ,

Sti ll reta in his ancient creed ,Ra nking, in his mental plan,L ife of beast o’

er life of man

Circe Speak , Gryllus .

Gryllus It is early yet to judgeBut a ll the novelties I yet have seenSeem changes for the worse .

The Three If we could show himOur triumphs in succession , one by one ,’

Twould surely change his judgment and hereinHow might’st thou a id u s , Circe !

Circe I will do so

And ca lling down , like Socra tes , of yore ,The clouds to a id u s , they sha ll shadow forthIn bright succession , all tha t they behold ,From a ir , on earth and sea . I wave my wandAnd 10 ! they come , even as they came in A thens ,

Shining like virgins of etherea l life.

74 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

Through groves and meads , o’

e r grass and he a ther,With little playmates , to and fro ,

We wandered hand in b and togetherBut that was Sixty years a g o.

You grew a lovely rosea te ma iden ,

And still ou r early love was strongStill with no care ou r days were laden,They glided joyously a longAnd I d id love you very clearly,

How dearly words want power to showI thought your heart w as touched as nearlyBut that was fifty years a go.

Then other lovers came around you ,Your beauty grew from year to year ,And many a splendid circle found youThe centre of its glittering sphere .I saw you then , first vows forsaking ,On rank and wealth your hand bestowOh, then I thought my heart w as breakingBut tha t was forty years ag o.

And I lived on , to wed anotherNo cause she gave me to repineAnd when I heard you were a mother ,I d id not wish the children mine .My own young flock , in fa ir progressionMade up a plea sant Christmas row

My joy in them w a s past expressionBut that was thirty years a g o.

You grew a matron , plump and comely,

You dwelt in fashion’s brightest bla zeMy earthly lot wa s far more homelyBut I too ha d my festal days .

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3 76 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

You have come from the bath , all in milk-whi te array.To Show you have washed worldly feelings aw ay ,

And ,pure as your vestments from secular sta in ,

Renounce sordid passions and se eking s for ga in .

This scarf of deep re d o’

er your vestments I throw,

In token , that down them your life-blood sha ll flow,

Ere Chivalry’s honour , or Christendom’

s fa ith ,

Shall meet through your fa ilure , or peril or sca ith .

These slippers of silk, of the colour of earth ,

Are in Sign of remembrance of whence you ha d birth :Tha t from earth you have sprung , and to ear th you

return,

But stand for the fa ith , life immorta l to earn .

This blow of the sword on your shoulder-bla de trueIs the mandate of homage , where homage is due ,And the sign that your swords from the sca bbard shall

flyWhen St George and the Right is the rallying cry.

Thi s belt of white silk, which no speck has defa ced,Is the Sign of a bosom with purity graced ,

And binds you to prove , wha tsoever betides ,

Of damsels distressed the friends , champions , and

g uides.

These spurs of pure gold are the symbols which say,

As your steeds obey them , you the Church Shall obey,

And speed at her bidding, through country and town,To stri ke , w ith your falchions , her enemies down .

’

Now fancy these Knights , when the speech they haveheard ,

As they stand , scarfed , shoed , shoulder- dubbed , beltedand spurred.

A NEW ORDER OF CHI VALRY 3 77

With the cross-handled sword duly shea thed on thethigh,

I‘

hus simply and candidly making reply

By your Ma j esty’s grace we have risen up Knights ,

But we feel little relish for frays and for fightsThere are heroes enough , full of spirit and fire ,

Always ready to shoot and be shot at for hire .

True with bulls and with bears we have battled ou r

causeAnd the bulls have no horns , and the bears have nopaws

And the mightiest blow which we ever have struckHas achieved but the glory of laming a duck 1.

With two nations in arms , friends impartia l to both,

To ra ise each a loan we Shall be nothing lothWe will lend them the pay , to fit men for the fray ;But shall keep ourselves carefully out of the way.

1 In Stock Exchange slang , Bulls are speculatorsfor a rise, Bears for a fall. A lame duck is a man whocannot pay his d ifle rences , and is sa id to waddle off.

The patr iotism of the money-market is well touchedby Ponsard , in his comedy La Bourse , a ct iv scene 3

ALFREDu and nous sommes va inqueurs , dire qu

’on a baissé I

81 nous étions battus, on aurai t d one haussé

DELATOUR

On a craint qu’

un succes , si brillant pour la France,De la paix qu ’on révait n

’

éloignfit l’esperance.

ALFRED

Ce tte Bourse, morbleu l n’

a donc rien dans le coeur lVentre aflamé n’

a point d’

ore ille s pour l’

honneur l

Aussi j e ne veux plus jouer—q u’

aprés ma noceEt j

'

attends Waterloo pour me mettre a la hausse.

3 78 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

We have small ta ste for championingma ids in distress:For State we care little for Church we care lessTo Premium and Bonus our homage we plightPercenta ge we cry and A fig for the right I

Twixt Sa int George and the Dragon we settle it thus :Which has scrip above par is the Hero for u s

For a turn in the market , the Dragon’

s re d gorgeSha ll have ou r free welcome to swallow Sa int George ’.

Now , God save our Queen , and if aught should occurTo peril the crown or the safety of her ,God send that the leader , who faces the foe ,May have more of King Richard than Mos es and Co.

FROM ORLANDO INNAMORA TA

WITH earnest w ish to pass the enchanted ga te ,Orlando to the fount aga in advanced ,And found Morgana , all with joy elate ,Dancing around , and singing as she danced .

As lightly moved and twirled the lovely Fa te 1

A s to the breeze the lightest folia g e g lanced ,

1 I have translated Fata , Fate . It is usually translated Fa iry. But the idea d iflers essentially from our!

of a fa iry. Among st other things there is no Fato, noOberon to the Titania . It does not , indeed , correspondwith our usual idea of Fate, but it is more ea sily d isting u ishe d a s a class for our old a cqua intances.the Fates , are an inseparable thr ee . The I ta lian Fatsis independent of her sisters . They are enchantresses :but they differ from other enchantresses in being immorta l. They are beautiful, too, and their beauty isimmortal : a lways in Bojardo. He would not haveturned Alcina into an old woman, as Ariosto d id ;which I must a lways consider a dreadful blemish on

the many charms of the Orland o Fu rioso.

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3 80 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

Nearer he drew, with fe et tha t could not tire ,And strong in hope to se ize her a s she spe d .

How va in the h0pe l Her form he se emed to clasp,

But soon as seined , she vm ished from his g rasp .

How many times he la id his eag er hand

On her bright form, or on her vesture fa irBut her whi te robes , and their vermilion band ,

Dec e ived his touch . and passed away like a ir .

which I ha ve cited this passage and the precedingone in chapter xx . is the fifteenth and la st completcIta lian edition . The ori work was supersed ed

by the Rifaeeiamenti ofgBerni

W

and Dome nichi . M:Panizzi has rendered a gra t service to lite ra tu re inreprinting the original . na colla ted a ll a ccessible

edi tions . Verum open in lon

go fa s est ob f epere son

am 1. He took for his stan ard ,

as I think unfor'

tunately, the Milanese edition 153 9 Wrth a ll the

care he bestowed on his task he overlooked one fearful

perversion in the concludmg sta nza , which in all

editions but the Milanese reads thus :

Mentre ch’ io canto , ahime Dio redentore ,

Vegg io l’Italia tutta a flamma e a foco

Per questi Ga lli , che con gran furoreVengon disertar non so che loco .

1

3 1918 vi

d

10 in

qlu a to vano amore

Fior ma ar cute 3 . poco a pocoUh ’

11 a be , ac mi fia concesso ,Racconterovi ii tu tto per expresso.Even while l sing , ah me , red em ing Heaven l

I see all l ta ly in fire and fla im ,

ed by these Gauls . who. great fury driven.e with d estruction for th

t

gr end and a im.

The ma id en’

,s he art b y vainest pm on riven,

Not now the rudelo b roken song may cla im ;

Some fu ture d ay, Fate auspicious prove ,

Shall end the ta le of Fiord a p ina’s love .

'(Hou e e , A r: Pom“ . l. 360}

THE SPIRI T RAPPERS 3 8 1

tu t once, as with a half- turned glance she scanned[e r foe—Heaven’s will and happy chance were there'

o breath for pau sing might the time allowle

,seized the golden forelock of her brow.

Then passed the gloom and tempest from the skyhe air at once grew calm and all serenend where rude thorns had clothed the mountain high ,7a s spread a pla in , all flowers and verna l green .

.epentanc e cea sed he r scourge. Still standing nigh,lith placid looks , in her but rarely seen,

me sa id Beware how yet the prize you losehe key of fortune few can wisely u se .

’

THE SPIRIT RAPPERS

Circe WAKE , Gryllus , and arise in human form.

Grylla s I have slept soundly , and had pleasantdreams.Circe I , too, have soundly slept . Divine how long.

Gryllu s Why, judging by the sun, some fourteen hours.Circe Three thousand years .

Tha t is a nap indeed .

u t this is not your garden, nor your pa lace.fhere are we nowCirce Three thousand years a go,

his land was fore st, and a bright pure rivera n through it to and from the ocea n stream .

ow , through a wilderness of human forms ,nd human dwellings , a polluted flood0113 up and down , charged with all earthly poisons,oisoning the a ir in tu rn.

I se e vast massesf strange unnatura l things .

Circe Houses , and ships ,nd boa ts , and chimneys vomi ting black smoke,.orse s , and carriages of every form ,

nd restless bipeds , rushing here and thereor profit or for plea sure, as they phrase it.

3 82 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

Gryllus Oh, Jupiter and Bacchus wha t a crowd,Flitting , like shadows without mind or pu rpose ,Such a s Ulysses saw in Erebus .

But wherefore are we hereCirce There have arisen

Some mighty masters of the invisible world ,

And these have summoned u s .

Gryllus With wha t designCirce That they themselves must tell. Behold

they come ,Carrying a mystic table , around whi chThey work their magic spells . Stand by , and mark

Three spiri t rappers appeared , carrying a table ,they placed on one side of the stage :

1 . Carefully the table place,Let ou r gifted brother traceA ring around the enchanted space .

2 . Let him tow’

rd the table pointWith his first forefinger joint ,And with mesmerised beginningSet the sentient oak - slab spinning .

3 . Now it spins around , around ,

Sending forth a murmuring sound ,

By the initiate understoodAs of spirits in the wood .

A ll : Once more Circe we invoke .Giroc Here not bound in ribs of oak ,

Nor, from wooden disk revolving,In strange sounds strange riddles solving,But in native form appearing ,Pla in to Sight , as clear to hearing .

The Three Thee with wonder we behold .

By thy hair of burning gold ,

By thy face with radiance bright ,By thine eyes of beaming light,We confess thee , mighty one,

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FROM GRYLL GRANGE

CHORUS OF CLOUDS 1

I

CLOUDS ever-flowing , conspicu ou sly soaring,

From loud-rolling Ocean , whose stream 2g a ve us

birth ,

To heights , whence we look over torrents down- pouringTo the deep quiet vales of the fruit-giving ea rth,

As the broad eye of E ther, unwearied in brightness,Dissolve our mist-veil in glittering rays ,

Our forms we reveal from its vapoury lightness ,In semblance immortal, with far- seeing ga ze .

Shower-bearing V irg ins , we seek not the regionsWhence Palla s , the Muses, and Bacchus have fled,But the city, where Commerce embodies he r legions,And Mammon exal ts his omnipotent hea d.

A ll joys of thought, feeling, and taste are before u s,Wherever the beams of his favour are warm

Though transient full oft as the veil of our chorus,Now golden with glory, now passing in storm .

CHORUS

IA s before the pike will flyDace and roach and such small fryA s the lea f before the gale,As the chafl beneath the flail,

1 The first stanza is pretty closely adapted from the

strophe of Aristophanes d éraol Ne¢éxa 11. The se cond

is only a dis tant imita tion of the antistrophe r apfle'

rm

dufipocpépoc2.

2 '

In Homer , and all the older poets , the ocea n is ariver surrounding the earth, and the seas are inlets ‘

from it.

[ 1 N iches, 1. NW , 1 299-1

THE SPIRI T RAPPERS

As before the wolf the flocks ,As before the hounds the foxAs before the cat the mouse,As the rat from falling houseAs the fiend before the spellOf holy water, book, and bellAs the ghost from dawning d aySo has fled , in gaunt dismay,This septemvirate of quacksFrom the shadowy atta cksOf Coeur-de-Lion’s ba ttle- axe .

Could he in corporeal might,Pla in to feeling as to sight,Rise aga in to solar light,How his arm would put to flightAll the forms of Stygian nightThat round u s rise in grim array,Darkening the meridian d ayBigotry, whose chief employIs embittering earthly joyCha os , throned in pedant sta te,Teaching echo how to pra teAnd Ignorance, with looks profoundNot with eye that loves the groundBut stalking wide, with lofty crest,In science’s pretentious vest.

d now , great masters of the rea lms of shade ,to end the task which ca lled u s down from a ir,shall present, in pictured Show arrayed ,) f this your modern world the triumphs rare,at Gryllus’s benighted spirit.y wake to your transcendant merit,

3 86 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

And , with profoundest admiration thrilled ,

He may with willing mind assume hi s pla ceIn your steam-nursed , steam-bom e, steam- killed,And g as

- enlightened race.

Circe Speak, Gryllus , what you se e .

I se e the ocean

And o’

er its face ships passing wide and fa rSome with expanded sa ils before the breez e ,

And some with neither sa ils nor oars , impe lle dBy some invisible power against the wind ,

Scattering the spray before them . But of manyOne is on fire , and one has struck on rocksAnd melted in the waves like fallen snow.

Two crash together in the middle sea ,

And go to pieces on the instant, leavingNo soul to tell the tale , and one is hurledIn fragments to the sky, strewing the de epWith dea th and wreck. I had rather live with CirceEven as I was , than flit about the worldIn those enchanted ships, which some AlastorMust have devised as traps for morta l ru in.

Circe Look yet again.

Gryllus Now the whole scene is changedI se e long cha ins of strange machines on whee ls ,With one in front of each, pufling white smokeFrom a bla ck hollow column. Fast and farThey speed ,

like yellow leaves before the gale ,When Autumn winds are strongest. Throu gh their

windowsI judge them thronged with people b ut d istinctlyTheir speed forbids my seeing.

Spirit-rapper This is one

Of the great glories of our modern time ,Men are become as birds and skim like swallows

The surface of the world.

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FROM GRYLL GRANGE

Our arts are good . The inevitable illTha t mixes with them as wi th all things huma n,I s as a drop of water in a gobletFull of old wine.Gryllus More than one drop ,

I fear,And those of bitter water.

Circe There is yetAn ample field of scientific triumphWhat shall we show him nextSpirit- rapper Pause we awhile .

He is not in the mood to feel convictionOf ou r superior greatness . He is all

For rural comfort and domestic ease,But our impulsive days are a ll for movingSometimes with some ulterior end ,

but stillFor moving , moving , always . There is nothingCommon between u s in our points of judgment.

He takes his stand upon tranquillity,

We ours upon excitement . There we pla ceThe being , end , and a im of morta l life,The many are with u s some few,

perhaps,With him. We put the question to the vote

There are only two distributions good and ill mixed.and unmixed ill. None , as Heyne has observe d , re ceiveunmixed good . Ex dolio bonornm nemo me re ciasa ccipit hoc memorare omisit. This sense is implied.not expressed . Pope missed it in his otherwis e beautifu l translation.

Two urns by Jove’s high throne have ever stood.The source of evil one , and one of good ;From thence the cup of morta l man he fills.Blessings to these , to those distributes ills ,

To most he mingles both the wretch decree dTo taste the b a d , unmixed, is curst indeedPu rsued by wrongs , by meagre famine driven,He wanders , outcast both of earth and heaven—Pope.

THE SPIRI T RAPPERS 3 89

B y universal suflrag e . A id u s , CirceOn ta lismanic wings your spells can wa ftThe question and reply. Are we not wiser,Happier, and better, than the men of old ,

O f Homer’s days , of A thens , and of RomeVoices Without : Ay. No. Ay, ay. No. Ay, ay,

ay, ay, ay.

We are the wisest race the earth has known ,

The most advanced in a ll the arts of life ,In science and in mora ls.

Spirit- rapper The ays have it.

What is that wondrous sound , that seems like thunderMixed with gigantic laughterCirce : It is Jupite rWho laughs at your presumption half in anger ,

And ha lf in mockery. Now , my worthy masters,

You must in turn experience in yourselvesThe mighty magic thus far tried on others.

The table turned slowly , and by degrees went onSpinning with accelerated speed . The legs assumedmotion , and it danced ofl the stage. The arms of thecha irs put forth hands , and pinched the spirit- rappers ,

who sprang up and ran ofl, pursued by their cha irs .

Circe Now , Gryllus , we may seek ou r ancient homeIn my enchanted isle.Gryllus Not yet, not yet.

Good signs are toward of a joyous supper.

Therein the modern world may have its glory,

And I , like an impartial judge , am readyTo do it ample justice. But, perhaps ,As a ll we hitherto have seen are sha dows ,So too may be the supper.

Circe Fear not, Gryllus ,That you will find a sound rea lity,

To which the land and air, seas , lakes , and rivers ,

3 90 FROM GRYLL GRANGE

Have sent their several tributes . Now , kind friends,Who with your smiles have graciously rewa rd edOur humble , but most earnest a ims to plea s e ,And with your presence at our festa l boardWill cha rm the Winter midnight, Music givesThe signal Welcome and old wine await you .

Chorus Shadows to-night have offered portraitstrue

Of many follies whi ch the world enthra ll.Shadows we are , and shadows we pursueBut, in the banquet

’

s well- illumined hall,Realities , delectable to all,Invite you now ou r festa l joy to share.Could we our A ttic prototype recall,One compound word should give our bill of fareBut where ou r langu age fa ils, our hearts tru e welcome

bear.

THE LEGEND OF SA INT LAURA

SAINT LAURA , in her sleep of death,Preserves benea th the tomb

’

Tis willed where what is willed must b e— 1

In incorruptibilityHer beauty and her bloom.

So pure her maiden life ha d been,So free from earthly sta in

’

Twas fixed in fate by Heaven 8 own Queen ,Tha t till the earth’s last closing scene

She should unchanged remain.

Within a deep sarcophagusOf alabaster sheen ,

1 Vuols i cosl coll dove si puoteCib che si vuole, e pi1

‘

1 non domandare.—Dante .

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3 9: FROM GRYLL GRANGE

Fear and amazement seiz ed on all

They ca lled on Mary’s a id

And in the tomb, unclosed aga in ,

With choral hymn and funeral train.

The corpse again was la id.

But wi th the incorruptibleCorruption might not rest

The lonely chapel’s stone- paved floorReceived the ej ected corpse once more,

In robes funereal drest.

So was it found when morning beamedIn solemn suppliant stra in

The nuns implored all sa ints in hea ven ,

That rest might to the corpse b e g iven ,

Which they entombe d aga in.

On the third night a watch was keptBy many a friar and nun

Trembling, all knelt in fervent prayer ,Till on the d reary midnight a ir

Rolled the deep bell- toll One

The sa int within the Opening tombLike marble statu e stood

All fell to earth in deep dismayAnd through their ranks She passe d away,

In calm unchanging mood .

No answering sound her footsteps ra ise dA long the stony floor

Silent as death, severe as fate,She glided through the chapel ga te ,

And none beheld her more.

The alabaster couch was goneThe tomb was mid and bare :

TO LORD BROUGHTON 3 9 3

For the las t time , with hasty rite ,Even ’mid the terror of the night,

They la id the abbess there .’

Tis sa id the abbess rests not wellIn that sepulchral pile

But yearly, when the night comes roundAs dies of One the bell’s deep sound

She flits along the a isle .

But whither passed the virgin sa int,To slumber far away,

Destined by Mary to endure ,Unaltered in her semblance pure,

Until the judgment d ayNone knew, and none may ever know

Angels the secret keepImpenetrable ramparts bound,

Eternal silence dwells aroundThe chamber of her sleep .

TO LORD BROUGHTONIN ANSWER TO BIRTHDAY GREETINGS

OLD friend , whose rhymes so kindly mix,

Thoughts grave and g ay with seventy- six,

I hope it may to you be givenTo do the same at seventy- sevenWhence your still living friends may dateA new good wish for seventy- eightAnd thence aga in extend the line,Until it passes seventy-nineAnd yet again , and yet again ,

While health and cheerfulness rema in.

Long be they yours , for, blessed with these ,Life’s latest years have power to please ,And round them spread the genia l blowWhich sunset casts on A lpine snovV.

3 94 M IDNIGHT

CASTLES IN THE A IR

[Da te unknown]MY thoughts by night are oftenWith vis ions fa lse as fa ir

For in the past a lone I buildMy ca stles in the air.

I dwell not now on wha t may beNight shadows o

'

er the sceneBut still my fancy wanders freeThrough tha t which might have been .

MIDNIGHT

[No date

011, clear are thy waters , thou beautiful streamAnd sweet is the sound of thy flowing

And bright are thy banks in the silver moonbeamWhile the zephyrs of midnight are blowing.

The hawthorn is blooming thy channel along,And breezes are waving the willow,

And no sound of life but the nightinga le’s songFloats o

’

er thy murmuring billow.

Oh, sweet scene of solitu de dearer to meThan the city’s fantastical splendour

From the haunts of the crowd I have hastened to thee ,Nor sigh for joys I surrender.

From the noise of the throng, from the mirth of the

dance ,What solace can misery borrow

Can riot the care-wounded bosom entrance ,Or still the pulsation of sorrow

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3 96 TIME

By force, by fraud , by purchase , or by dea th ,

Will change their lords , and pass to other hand s .

Then since to none perpetual u se is given ,

And heir to heir, as wave to wave, succeed s ,

How vain the pride of wealth how va in the b oastOf fields , planta tions , parks , and palaces ,If death invades alike, with ruthless arm,

The peasant’s cottage , and the regal tower,Unawed by pomp, inflexible by gold

Death comes to all. His cold and sapless handWaves o

’

er the world , and beckons u s away.

Who shall resist the summons P Child of ea rthWhile yet the blood

’

runs dancing through thy veins ,Impelled by joy and youth’s meridian hea t ,’

Twere wise at times , to change the crowd ed hau ntsOf human splendour , for the woodland rea lmsOf solitude , and mark , with heedful ear,The hollow voice of the autumnal wind ,

That warns thee of thy own mortality.

Death comes to all . Not earth’s collected wealth,Golcond ian diamonds and Peruvian gold,Can ga in from him the respite of an hour.

He wrests his trea sure from the miser’s grasp ,

Dims the pa le rose on bea uty’

s fading cheeks ,Tears the proud diadem from kingly brows ,

And breaks the warrior’s adamantine shield.

Man yields to death and man’s sublimest worksMust yield at length to Time . The proud one thinksOf life’s uncerta in tenure, and lamentsHis transitory greatness . While he boastsHis noble blood , from ancient kings derived

,

And views with careless and disda inful eyeThe humble and the poor , he shr inks in va inFrom anxious thoughts , that teach his sickening heartThat he is like the beings he contemns,

CHORAL ODE 3 97

The creature of an hour that when a few,

Few years have past, that little spot of earth,That d ark and narrow b ed , which a ll must press,Will level all distinction. Then he bidsThe marble structure rise, to g uard awhile,A little while , his fading memory.

Thou lord of thousands Time is lord of theeThy wealth, thy glory, and thy name are his .

And may protract the blow, but cannot b arHis certa in course, nor shield his destined prey.

The wind and ra in assa il thy sumptuous domesThey sink, and are forgotten. All that isMust one d ay cease to be . The chiefs and kings.That aw e the nations with their pomp and pow er.

Shall slumber with the chiefs and kings of oldAnd Time shall leave no monumenta l stone,To tell the spot of their eternal rest.

CHORAL ODE

[Date unknown]

"

001-11 roil i rke'

oros pe'

povs.

Sophocles , Gi d ipus at Colonus [ 12 1 1L

ALAS that thirst of wealth and powerShould pass the bounds by wisdom la id ,And shun contentment’s mounta in- bower.To chase a fa lse and fleeting sha de !The torrid orb of summer shroudsIts head in darker, stormier cloudsThan quenched its vernal glowAnd streams , that meet the expanding sea ,

Resign the peace and purityTha t marked their infant flow .

CHORAL ODE

Go see k what joys , serene and deep ,

The pa ths of weal th and power supply 1The eyes no balmy slumbers steepThe lips own no satiety,

Till, where unpitying Pluto dwells ,And where the turbid Styx irnpe lsIts circling waves along,The pale ghost treads the flowerless shore ,

And hears the unblest Sisters pourTheir loveless , lyre less song.

Man’s happiest lot is not to beAnd , when we tread life

’

s thorny steep ,

Most blest are they, who, earliest free,Descend to dea th’s eternal sleep .

From wisdom far, and peace, and truth,

Imprudence leads the steps of youth,

Where ceaseless evils spri ngToil, frantic pa ssion , dea dly strife ,Revenge, and murder

’

s secret knife ,And envy’s scorpion sting.

Ag e comes , unloved , unsocial a g e ,

Exposed to fa te’

s severest shock ,

As to the ocean- tempest’s rageThe bleak and billow- bea ten rock.

There ills on ills commingling press ,Morose , unjoying helplessness ,And pain , and slow diseaseAs , when the storm of winter raves ,

The wild winds rush from all their caves ,To swell the northern seas .

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400 A GOODLYE BALLADE OFLITTLE JOHN

He saw on the walls the shadows castOf sacred sisters three

He blessed them not , as they flitte d pastBut above them all he ha ted the last,For tha t was Charitie .

Now down from the shelf a book he bore ,

And characters he drew,

And a spell he muttered o’

er and o’

er.

Till before him cleft was the marble floor,And a murky fiend came through .

Now take thee a torch in thy red right ha ndLittle John to the fiend he sa ithAnd let it serve as a signal brand ,To rouse the rabble , throughout the land ,Aga inst the Catholic Fa ith

Stra ight through the porch, with brandishe d tOrch,The fiend went joyously out

And a posse of parsons , esta blished by law ,

Sprang up when the lurid flame they saw ,

To head the rabble rout.

And braw Scots Presbyters nimbly spe dIn the tra in of the muckle black de’il

And , as the wild infection spread ,The Protestant hydra ’

s every head ,

Sent forth a yell of zeal.

And pell-mell went all forms of dissent,Each beating its scriptural drum

Wesleyans and Whitfield ites followed as friends,And whatever in onion Iarian ends,Et omne quad exit in hum.

And in bonfires burned ten thousand Guys ,With carica tures of the pious and wise,

’Mid shouts of goblin glee,

GOODI.YE BALLADE OF LI TTLE JOHN 49 1

And such a clamour rent the skies ,Tha t all buried lunatics seemed to rise ,And hold a Jubilee.

FYTTE THE SECOND

THE devil gave the rabble scopeAnd they left him not in the lurchBut they went beyond the summoner’s hopeFor they qu ickly got tired of bawling No PopeAnd bellowed No State Church

Ho quoth Little John , this must not b eThe devil leads all amiss

He works for himself, and not for me

And straightway back I ’ll b id him fleeTo the bottomless abyss

Aga in he took down his book from the wa ll,And pondered words of might

He muttered a speech, and he scribbled a scrawlBut the only answer to his callWas a glimpse , at the uttermost end of the ha ll,Of the devil taking a sight.

And louder and louder grew the clangAs the rabble raged without

The door was beatenwith many a bangAnd the vaulted roof te - echoing rangTo the tumult and the shout.

The fiendish shade on the wall portrayed ,Threw somersaults fast and free,

And flourished his ta il like a brandished fla il,As busy as if it were blowing a gale,And his task were on the sea .

49 3 FAREWELL TO MEIRION

And up he toss’t his huge pitchfork ,

As visioned shrine s uproseAnd right and left he went to work,Till full over Durham, and Oxford, and York,He stood with a menacing pose.

The rabble roar was hushed awhile ,As the hurricane rests in its sweep

And all throughout the ample pileReigned silence dread and deep.

Then a thrilling voice cried LittleA little spell will do ,When there is mischief to be done,To ra ise me up and set me onFor I , of my own free will, am won

To carry such spiritings through.

But when I am riding the tempest’s w ing,And towers and spires have blazed ,

’Tis no small conjurer’s art to sing ,Or say, a spell to check the swingOf the demons he has ra ised

FAREWELL TO MEIRION

[No date]

ME1RION , farewell thy sylvan shades ,Thy mossy rocks and bright casca d es,Thy tangled glens and dingles wild ,Might well deta in the Muses ’ child .

But can the son of science find ,

In thy fa ir realm , one kindred mind ,

One soul sublime , by feeling taught ,To wake the genuine pulse of thought

,

One heart by nature formed to proveTrue friendship and unvarying love i’

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‘Vhich blackening eddies whirlAnd crested surges hurl

Ag a inst the rocky bulwarks of the land ,While to the tumult , deepening round ,The repercussive caves resound.

In solitary pride,By Dirc e ’

s murmuring side ,The giant oak has stretched its ample shade,And waved its tresses of imperia l might

Now low in dust its blackened boughs are la idIts dark root withers in the depth of night.

Nor hoarded gold, nor pomp of martial powerCan che ck necessity

’

s supreme control,Tha t cleaves unerringly the rock- built tower ,

And whelms the flying bark where shorelessoceans roll.

ON CALLERS

i nstead of sitting wrapped up in flannelWith rheumatism in every joint ,

I wish I was in the English Channel,Cruising round the Lizard Point,

Steering south with the wind before me ,

I should not care whether smooth or rough,For then no visitors would ca ll to bore me ,

Of whose good-mornings I have ha d enough.

THE END

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